


Strategic Differences

by Jb (sg1jb)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Off-World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg1jb/pseuds/Jb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel is left behind. He finds himself in a dangerous situation, and facing a cultural dilemma</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategic Differences

**Author's Note:**

> Tag / continuation of the season 1 episode 'Cor-ai'.  
> Previously posted online, December, 1999

_"We have our own wounded to care for… I suggest you take your friend home."_

At those words Daniel released the breath he was holding, and the catch in his chest quickly subsided.  _Oh thank God... thankyou-thankyou._  Throughout the Serpent Guards’ attack on the Byrsa Daniel had been painfully aware that even should Teal’c make it past Apophis’s Jaffas, it could be for nought. Hanno was determined that Teal’c must die.

It was to have been a death of retribution, and despite his very best efforts nothing Daniel had tried to do or say had changed that. He had been so certain that his way – respect and compassionate logic – would produce a positive outcome for the Cor-ai. He had been sure that he understood the fundamental concept of Cor-ai... but really he hadn’t, and so he had blown it. In the end it was Teal’c himself who had turned it all around, not through diplomacy or impassioned arguments and insights, but through direct action. It was Teal’c’s active demonstration of honor and self-sacrifice that had saved his own life.

Not him, not Daniel. He hadn’t helped at all. Then, to boot, he had passively allowed himself to be hauled away, leaving Teal’c to Shak’l.

Jack had gone back to Hanno, renewing the offer of assistance in fighting the Goa’uld. As O’Neill spoke with the Byrsa, Daniel could see that Jack’s weight was balanced on his near leg, his body turned ever so slightly in Teal’c’s direction. Sam’s hand rested supportively on their injured friend’s arm, instantly ready to assist Teal’c should he seem willing to accept it. Teal’c was standing right there, not three feet from him, but somehow Daniel couldn’t go closer, couldn’t move to offer his friend the assistance which the others so freely and instinctively gave.

A hand on his forearm startled him. Sam dislodged the velcro around his wrist with a slight apology on her face. "Teal’c needs to go home… c’mon."     She turned away.

Her soft tone and the still-visible tremble of Teal’c’s lips tore at him. His relief at Hanno’s change of heart was rapidly disintegrating into dismay and a growing sense of, what? Guilt? Something not welcome, not helpful. There was another catch in his chest... but this time it was not the result of breath held far too long for comfort, was not suspense or anxiety. It was bitter self-recrimination.

"Daniel!" Jack’s voice was loud; he sounded annoyed.

Daniel realized with a start that the others had gone outside; he now stood alone in the enclosure. Damn. He must have spaced out for a moment. Several quick strides took him outside, where he saw Sam and Teal’c making their way past the DHD. They were leaving. Leaving? Should they be leaving now... Daniel vaguely thought that it was too soon to leave. Unaccountably he felt preoccupied, confused.

 

* * *

 

Jack and Hanno stood just a few feet left of where Daniel left the enclosure. A scowl darkened Jack’s face as he watched Daniel emerge and, not watching where he was going, strike his shoulder on the wall as he rounded the corner at the entrance. Then Daniel just stopped there, looking around with a baffled expression on his face.  _Useless._  Jack thought that SG1 had been solidifying into a pretty decent team of late, but now...  Jack was not thrilled with Daniel’s behavior on this trip. The kid had challenged him openly at every turn. And now that everything was settling out okay – no thanks to Daniel – he was holding them up. Daydreaming, while Teal’c was hurting.

"Get over there and dial it up, Daniel. Sometime today would be nice."

Trying to both mask and control his irritation, Jack turned to Hanno. "Some of our people will come back soon; we can provide you with some help, equipment and information to help you deal with these snake-guys."

Hanno thanked O’Neill and he and his men re-entered the building. After watching them go, Jack turned his attention back to his own people. Daniel was at the DHD and Sam and Teal’c stood expectantly in front of the steps to the Stargate. Jack’s relief was huge; Teal’c was coming home with them, alive. That was a real victory, but watching Daniel prepare to dial home Jack knew that one other thing of significance, something considerably less positive, had occurred on this mission. He also knew that if SG1 was to grow to be a cohesive unit, that one other thing would have to be dealt with.

 

* * *

 

Standing in front of the DHD, Daniel was very aware of Jack’s displeasure with him. It complimented his own quite nicely. He’d handled this all wrong; he had been wrong, wrong, wrong. Teal’c had almost been killed. Could that be in part because maybe, just possibly, he, Doctor Show-Some-Respect, had placed his own personal agenda above Teal’c’s safety? Anger at himself rising, Daniel began dialing, pushing at the glyphs with more force than was really necessary.

 _One...    two...    three..._    A hand was placed on his shoulder, and Daniel looked up to see Sam, and standing just behind her not looking at him at all, was Teal’c. Daniel felt his failure burning on his face.

"Daniel? You okay?" The concern in Sam’s voice and on her face was not helpful. He didn’t deserve it. "Daniel, try to relax. It’s over now... I’m sorry we left you here alone, that you had to go through that without..."

"What?"   What was she talking about?

"The Jaffa attack, Daniel. I know it must have been hard on you, with us gone and Teal’c..."

Daniel felt an urge to laugh out loud. The compassionate look Sam was giving him seemed to contain an entirely different message than the one she probably intended on sending. To Daniel, it said volumes about how much faith she had that he could handle things. And he had proved her right.

 _four...    five..._  "Just worried about Teal’c. Need to get him home."

 _six...    Shit._  It was the wrong one. He’d mis-dialed. "Dammit!"   Bending quickly, Daniel reached down and reset the DHD. Before he had straightened up completely, his collar was grabbed and he felt himself being roughly shoved off to one side.

"I’ll do it." Jack gave him a little extra push at the end, and Daniel stumbled slightly. "Go get yours and Teal’c’s packs. In there."  He jerked his head off to the left, towards the building’s entrance.

As Daniel headed off in that direction, the knot in his chest growing ever tighter, Hanno and several other Byrsa appeared from inside carrying the SGC gear. Hanno put one hand on Daniel’s arm as he reached for the packs. "I would like to thank you... I have learned something from you, from the Cor-ai. My judgment... it was faulty. I am sorry. Will you be among those who return here?"

Daniel almost choked. His first thought was ‘you’re sorry? thank me? for, what?’ Speechless, the only response he could come up with right then was one which he kept to himself – yeah he had been *sooo* helpful. As Daniel fumbled for an answer which he could voice aloud, the second half of Hanno’s comment registered.  _...among those who return here..._  Somehow, that provoked an almost familiar sense of dread; it seemed to Daniel to be a very important statement, but somehow not in the same context as Hanno had clearly meant it.

Feeling unaccountably disturbed by Hanno’s innocent question, Daniel smiled thinly at the young Byrsa man. He heard himself say that he’d very much like to return. Hanno returned a very genuine smile before turning and with the remaining Byrsa men, leaving for the Hiding where the rest of his people had taken their injured. Daniel had only moved a few steps toward the Stargate when sudden understanding – cold realization of what had disturbed him – burst free. Daniel snatched up the packs and ran over to Jack. "Wait! We can’t leave yet!" He placed one restraining hand on Jack’s arm, to stop him from dialing out.

He didn’t exactly get a warm reception.

 

* * *

 

This was the second time Daniel had laid a hand on him this trip, the first being when Daniel had blocked Jack and held the barrel of his rifle while telling him that he wasn’t handling the situation properly. Plus, it was about the millionth time that the kid had either run off at the mouth or had actually outright challenged Jack’s decisions. All of the anxiety and frustration Jack had felt on this trip – his powerlessness over the situation, dsmayed amazement at Teal’c’s stubborness, impatience with Daniel’s damn I-know-it-all-you’re handling-this-all-wrong  _crap_ , and especially his frustration at Hammond’s refusal to help – all that and more coalesced into a huge explosion of anger, directed right at Daniel.

"Damn it, Jackson! That's enough." In the heat of the moment Jack’s body reacted instinctively to the flood of outrage, and before he could organize any effort to stop himself he strode froward and got right in Daniel's face. Fortunately, just before his hands actually made contact with Daniel's collar, Jack marshalled some control and turned away from what he'd almost done. 

He was too close and his shoulder forcibly clipped Daniel's as he did an abrupt about-turn. Daniel was jarred backwards and tripped over debris from an overturned cart, twisting awkwardly just before he hit the ground. Jack didn't so much as blink at the fall, forcing the upsurge of unwilling acknowledgement that he was responsible back underneath a mountain of still unexpressed frustration. Not looking at Daniel and ignoring the shocked exclamation from Carter and the look of surprise on Teal’c’s face, Jack quickly dialed and activated the Stargate.

As Jack’s hand closed on Carter’s arm and guided her towards the event horizon, Carter managed another protest. "Colonel! What on earth..."

"Look, Carter. Let’s just get Teal’c back and then we’ll all kiss and hug and make nice. Okay?"

"I do not require this assistance." Teal’c pulled his arm out from under Jack’s other hand. Clearly this had been a difficult time for Teal’c, and in his emotional turmoil he had long before lost the impassive mask he normally wore. Now, both confusion and an appalled look passed across his features. Removing his hand from Teal’c’s arm, Jack stood back as Teal’c turned to look over at Daniel before settling his gaze upon Jack. "O’Neill. Your disappointment with me should not be expressed in this manner."

For a split second the recognition came back, but then Jack’s irritation swelled again. It wasn’t Teal’c he was mad at... he looked toward Daniel, who seemed to be getting himself organized to stand up. For sure, there were some things here which would have to be dealt with. "He’s coming, Teal’c. We’ll sort it all out later back home." Giving Teal’c a gentle push with a single finger, Jack indicated that they should go.

"You will attend to this at that time?" At O’Neill’s nod, Teal’c cast a quick glance back toward Daniel before turning and limping into the wormhole. Sam looked uncertainly from Daniel to her C.O. Jack raised his eyebrows at her and made a sweeping gesture, ‘after you’... and to his satisfaction she allowed him to direct her home.

 

* * *

 

Before Daniel could brace himself he was falling back, stumbling awkwardly over the broken frame of the cart which the Serpent Guards had overturned. He landed with a jarring impact on his rear end, his chest in sudden spasm as the wind was knocked out of him. They were really leaving... they were at the Stargate... Lack of breath, dismay, and disbelief choked him, and he was unable to get out even so much as a gasp to warn them. He saw Teal’c and Sam look back toward him and tried to get to his feet, but then they were gone. Sitting on one leg, wavering unsteadily, Daniel whispered "No! We can’t go right now... not yet..."

Daniel’s entire body flushed with uncomfortable heat and he felt vaguely ill. Again, he’d blown it; he’d misread the situation – this time, the depth of Jack’s anger with him – and he’d failed to get his point across. Jack didn’t understand… didn’t realize the danger to the Byrsa. Daniel couldn’t really be sure how much time they had. He thought that Teal’c would know, but Jack had not given him the chance to ask. Okay, then... he’d have to go back to SGC and do just that. General Hammond would send help. He’d have to.

Intending to rise to his feet, Daniel shifted his weight, but he wasn’t even able to get his other leg underneath him before his lower back flared... a breath-stealing stabbing pain which radiated down into both hips. Vertigo and nausea assailed him. Reaching out for the edge of the fallen cart, he steadied himself against the wooden frame and concentrated on taking deep slow breaths. It took a few minutes, but the pain seemed to ease somewhat. Working to supress the rising fear that there was something very wrong here, Daniel shifted his weight, trying once again to get his feet under him... only to gasp with the sharp heat that lanced through his spine and down into his hips. As soon as he stopped moving it settled into an almost overwhelming burning sensation centered in the small of his back.  _God_... It hurt... a lot.

The Stargate was still active. He didn’t have a remote transmitter... he’d have to go through now before it shut down. Daniel tried to stand up, and cried out against the intensity of the new spasm in his lower back. Again, unpleasant warmth flooded through his body and with it, this time, he felt gut-wrenchingly nauseated. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting. Daniel looked up at the active Stargate, feeling the fear rapidly turning into overt panic.

He could see the Jaffa marching through the silver sheen, advancing upon him, aiming their staff weapons...

 

* * *

 

"SG-1 code, Sir."

General Hammond glanced at the computer screen which announced the receipt of the correct code and ordered the iris opened. Hopefully he’d see all four members returning, but given the unfortunate circumstances and Teal’c’s own choice in this matter, he rather doubted it. The first to emerge from the wormhole, was Teal’c. With tremendous relief General Hammond made his way to the Gate Room. O’Neill and Carter, tactfully supporting Teal’c, met him at the blast door to the corridor.

"Had a bit of a problem with the Goa’uld, Sir. Teal’c needs medical attention."

"The Goa’uld! What happened?" As confused as ever at yet another unexpected turn of events – Hammond couldn’t help but feel that SG1 existed for the very purpose of muddling his brain – the General moved aside for Dr. Fraiser and her medical team, looking with some concern at the wound on Teal’c’s leg.

"Let’s go upstairs, Colonel. Due to the situation, I want to hear about this right away."

"Sir, permission to accompany Teal’c?" Hammond nodded his assent to Carter, and once again moved aside as she and Teal’c were bustled off to the Infirmary by the Doctor and medical attendants. Alarmed over what could have gone on in the short time since Carter and O’Neill had left previously, Hammond pressed O’Neill through the door and followed the Colonel into the corridor as the Stargate shut down behind them. O’Neil and General Hammond rounded the stairs through the control room, continuing on up the second set of stairs to the briefing room. They were in conversation as they went, O’Neill pausing only to toss his remote transmitter over to the tech on duty, Harriman, before swinging around the handrail and taking the steps up two at a time.

The airmen on guard in the Gate Room looked at one another with open curiosity. But, often there were weird things going on and the SGC teams came and went unpredictably. It wasn’t up to them to know who was supposed to be where, when. They simply shrugged at each other and went back to minding their own business.

Harriman looked up as he caught the transmitter, then glanced out the control room viewing window. He thought of asking, but like the guards below there were many times when he wasn’t privy to the whys and wherefores of the comings and goings of the teams, most especially SG-1.

If the General and the other SG-1 team members accepted the absence... well, so would he.

 

* * *

  

 _Okay, okay okay... it’s okay..._  Like a mantra, Daniel’s mind gave voice to the word over and over again. He concentrated on controlling his breathing, exhaling slowly with each ‘okay’. The intense queasiness faded some and he settled himself carefully onto his left hip, left leg curled beneath him. During the time that he had been preoccupied with trying to cope with the disabling pain and nausea, the Stargate had shut down. That was all right; surely they’d re-open it and come back as soon as they saw he wasn’t there. Sam knew he didn’t have the remote; she’d removed it from his wrist just before she and Teal’c had left the enclosure.

Damn, his back hurt. The pain stabbed, jolted, throbbed through him. And when he moved... well, that wasn’t something worth thinking about. He could feel and wriggle his toes, and knew that if it were not for the pain, there would be adequate strength and movement in his legs. Mind you, Daniel also knew that didn’t completely rule out a spinal injury... but he felt pretty sure that this was just a strain, just muscles. And ligaments. And whatever else normally held him all together back there.

"Ah!" The gasp tore out of him as fresh pain clamped down on his lower back, squeezing mercilessly. This was no good. He couldn’t let Jack find him like this, cowering in the dirt with tears running down his face. Jack was pissed off with him enough as it was. Rightly so, too.

Willing himself to think of anything else but that humiliation, Daniel told himself that it wasn’t so bad; that it would just be a minute more... just a minute more and they’d be back for him.  _Jesus_... why aren’t they back even now?  _Come on!_  He was afraid to move, to turn his arm so he could look at his watch. Afraid of the pain. Wasn’t anyone coming back? What about the Byrsa? Daniel knew, though, that not as much time had passed as had seemed to... although it felt like an eternity it had probably only been a few moments. Certainly, sheer agony had a lot to do with how time seemed to pass, but Daniel figured it was also the unatural quiet which made the time drag; the entire area was deserted as Hanno’s people were all in the Hiding, tending to their injured.

The Stargate was still quiet as well. But if it stayed that way much longer, Daniel knew that when it did fire up, it would be a toss-up as to just how welcome a sight it would be. Perhaps he should try to move into the woods... to find the Hiding. The pain flared once more, sending a bolt of fire along the outside of his leg down to his left ankle. It left no doubt; walking was out of the question. With an inadvertent giggle Daniel told himself that the Hiding wasn’t all it was cracked up to be anyway – just one big misnomer, now. He knew he was really starting to lose it; there was nothing even remotely amusing about the Jaffa knowing about the Hiding.

"Oh No..." His back grabbed at him again. His breath came in gasps. The SGC packs were there, right over there... Every movement sent unbearable stabs of pain across his back and down into his legs. With some difficulty, Daniel reached out toward them, but they were just out of reach. Shifting his weight off his hip, unsuccessfully fighting to stifle the cry lodged in his throat, Daniel pushed himself over onto his other side, reaching out for the pack...

...and a strong hand suddenly, unexpectedly, gripped his own. In his surprise, Daniel’s chest seized so abruptly he thought he’d never breath again.

A recently-familiar soft voice comforted him. "It’s okay... it is just I... let me help."

 

* * *

 

Hanno placed a supporting arm around Daniel’s shoulder and eased the man back to lean on his own chest. He had been shocked to hear a loud cry of pain as he re-entered his village from the trees, and even more shocked to see the visitor, still here, alone, huddled on the ground. He was obviously in distress; ill, or maybe injured. Perhaps an injury from the Jaffa attack, somehow hidden until now?

Daniel opened his eyes and looked up at Hanno. The expressive blue eyes, the face that Hanno had recently seen so alive with passion and conviction, now only held pain and anxiety. "Hanno!" His name came out from the other in a quick gasp. "Your people... leave the... the Hiding. Find some...where, somewhere else." The young stranger then made an attempt to shift his position, reaching out to one side. Hanno tightened his grip as Daniel’s face paled and he cried out yet again. The hand reached out again, and Daniel shook his head, forcing out the words. "No... let me... I need, I need to get it..."

Leave the hiding? That was out of the question; the wounded were there. Hanno let his eyes fall over the other’s body. There was no bleeding, no obvious signs of injury. Hanno didn’t understand what was wrong, nor what these words could possibly mean, but he understood the physical struggle. This young man called Daniel, his breathing was ragged and his hands trembled, but he seemed to know just what he wanted. Hanno reached over and snagged the pack which Daniel was obviously intent on reaching. Pulling it to them, he re-settled Daniel against his chest, and placed the pack in the other man’s lap.

 

* * *

 

Daniel knew he wasn’t explaining very well, and tried again. "Goa’uld. Shak’l..." He couldn’t get the words out around the pain. He’d have to tend to his back first... the pack. He had to get the pack open. Daniel squirmed forward and took possession of the backpack, gritting his teeth against the fresh spasms. Grunting, Daniel scrabbled at the fastenings on the far side of the pack where he knew he’d find the MedKit, in the side pocket. He pulled it out and clawed at the velcro to open it. Pulling out the first two of the preloaded syringes his hands came into contact with, Daniel was relieved to find that they contained morphine.

Daniel had only done this once before, and never to himself. Not too sure if he remembered what to do, he scanned the label: ‘3 cc prediluted morphine sulfate, dilutent...’ He scanned it further; there it was, the strength: 5mg per ml. If he remembered his training correctly, he could use a vein but the drug was only lightly diluted, it would need to be injected very slowly. Dosage... into a vein, he could start with about a half a ml., about 2.5 mgs. Dr. Fraiser had told them that any more than that, given intravenously at one time, would be dangerous.

He pawed through the pack, looking for a suitable needle to replace the one on the syringe. Oh hell, wait. What if it made him drowsy? He had to get his message across to Hanno, had to get Jack to ask Teal’c about how much time they might have. If he gave it into a muscle, he could use the entire dose... but, it would take a fair amount of time to really get working. He might have a better chance of staying awake, though. Daniel pulled the cap off, exposing the 2 inch long injection needle.

"What is that?" Daniel felt Hanno tense up against him, heard the alarm in his voice.

"Medicine... takes away... pain."  _Ohhh, please._  "S’okay. No... no problem."

An intense back spasm reminded him that he’d need to do something right away, before he thoroughly lost what little cool he was hanging onto. Twisting the plunger to unlock it, Daniel firmly stabbed the needle through his fatigues into his thigh. So far so good. He grimaced and depressed the plunger forcefully to overcome the resistance in his tense muscle, injecting the painkiller. Knowing he needed to be conservative, he tried to stop when the chamber was about two-thirds empty, but he overshot the mark slightly. The scant bit of remaining fluid swirled as he released the pressure on the plunger.

As Daniel pulled the needle out of his thigh, he saw blood in the syringe, and a sick feeling came over him. God... he had forgotten to aspirate before he injected the drug... what if he had just given himself a full syringe of morphine, into a vein in his leg? His heart hammering with fear, Daniel closed his eyes to wait and hoped for two things; that Hanno was a patient man, and that he hadn’t just killed himself with a massive overdose of intravenous morphine.

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t taken all that long to know for sure that Teal’c was going to be okay. He still had a haunted look in his eyes, but was considerably more composed than he'd been earlier. Doctor Fraiser had dealt with the leg wound and after awhile Teal’c had insisted that he wanted to return to his quarters, alone, to meditate. Sam thought she might track down Daniel.

He and Colonel O’Neill had really crossed each other up on this mission. She could almost actually  _feel_  the jolt from the push her C.O. had given Daniel; yup, right clear up to her eyeballs. That had been alarming. Sam knew that the Colonel had been appalled beyond rational thought by Teal’c’s situation, and Daniel’s vocal opposition to the O’Neill’s instinctive reactions had certainly contributed to his upset. But, holy hannah, intentional or not, the Colonel had done the basic equivalent of laying a hand on a team member.

Despite her conviction that O’Neill’s physical contact with Daniel had been unintentional, born of incredible stress, she couldn’t help but feel that was no excuse. She also felt that she was getting to know Daniel pretty well; he would no doubt be burned to the quick at what had happened and unlikely to be dealing with it very well. And now, Janet Fraiser was annoyed that Daniel hadn’t turned up at the Infirmary. She’d complained to Sam that Daniel needed to learn to follow the rules; he was supposed to get checked out... he knew that. Sam had told Janet that Daniel was probably with Colonel O’Neill and General Hammond, but she knew he wouldn’t be. Daniel was smart enough to know to steer clear of the Colonel; not only would he want to avoid the Colonel for his own sake until things settled down, but he’d surely realize that for his part O’Neill would not tolerate Daniel’s presence very well just now.

She sighed. Those men were so different. Theirs was a developing relationship between polar opposites, born of shared trauma and fueled by mutual need, and the early goings were not always pretty. But she couldn’t help but notice that as time passed they were becoming more and more inexplicably – and very powerfully –  _connected_  to one another. That made it all the worse for them when their differences in opinion and attitude came to the forefront. While today’s incident was clearly something which the two men should address in private, Sam figured it wouldn’t hurt to give Daniel a bit of a head start by lending her ear. He was probably holed up in his office; she’d get rid of her gear first and go haul him down to the infirmary, before settling him down with a cup of coffee.

Right after a hot shower and a change of clothes.

 

* * *

  

Almost an hour later, after showering and checking on Teal’c, carrying her flack vest as she entered the control room, Sam pulled the transmitter out of a pocket and held it out to Harriman. "What?" She looked at the airman. Harriman seemed surprised, almost dazed. He didn’t accept the transmitter, he just stared at it with his mouth making a round ‘O’ shape. Harriman spun his chair around to look to his other side. A remote transmitter lay on the desktop beside him, next to his keyboard.

"Uhh… Captain Carter, whose is that? SG-1?"

Carter pulled back her head, a bit confused. Harriman was looking at the thing like it was a bomb or something. "It’s... ours. Why?"

"Begging your pardon, Ma’am… but how many did you take? I mean, I thought we just gave SG-1 two remote transmitter’s this trip?"

"Yeah... two. What’s the matter?"

Harriman stared at the one on the desk, before looking back up to her. "Oh. Uhh. Well, so you’ll be going back to P3X-1279, then? Am I supposed to dial it now?" He was starting to look positively twitchy.

Sam didn’t know what the man was going on about, but they  _were_  in fact going to go back. Maybe Colonel O’Neill and the General had already given the okay? "Well, we’re going to send another team back, I don’t know that it’s going to be SG-1 though. I thought it wouldn’t be for at least a few weeks, though. We have to make some arrang..."

An urgent hand on her arm stopped her. She looked in surprise at the airman, who had half risen out of his seat. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, like he wanted to disappear. ‘What on earth is his problem?’ she thought.

"W-w-weeks. Uhh, Ma’am? Ummm... I need to ask... I mean, if we have both remotes here, what if Dr. Jackson needs to come back before then?"

 

* * *

 

Shaking his head to clear away the fog of a drug-induced sleep, Daniel all at once felt ecstatic, dejected, and alarmed. Ecstatic, because he obviously hadn’t killed himself after all, dejected because despite his best attempts to stay conscious, he had slipped away for a while, and alarmed because of the amount of time that had passed. Now, though, he was aware that the pain had stabilized somewhat, settling into a powerful throb in the center of the small of his back with grabbing tentacles of heat radiating off to into each flank and down into his pelvis. But, at least he could breath freely now. It was easier now, at least, to talk. "Hanno..." The Byrsa obviously, in fact, was an extremely patient man. Hanno was still there with him, supporting Daniel against his chest. He looked down at Daniel in response to hearing his name. "Hanno, the Goa’uld. Shak’l – the one in charge – they expect him to return home with prisoners... have to warn you."

Hanno tensed, clearly understanding what Daniel was telling him; that they would return, the Jaffa would return. In his sudden concern, Hanno started to jump to his feet, stopping at the cry of pain from Daniel. "Oh! I am sorry! But, I have to go..."

Working to relax again, Daniel gave Hanno a slight smile. "Yes. Go on. The Jaffa who come back, they probably..." Daniel shifted his position, trying to move off of Hanno. Pleasantly surprised that he could manage it, that moving about was bearable now, he muttered "Oh, thank God."

"What?"

"Sorry... it’s okay. Hanno, they probably know where the Hiding is, or at least, the way you take to escape to there?" Seeing Hanno’s nod, Daniel continued. "I’m not sure how long before the Jaffa come back. Is there somewhere else you could take your people? Until my people come back to help?"

Hanno’s laugh was derisive. "Your people have left you here alone, unwell! I no longer believe O’Neill really would help us."

Daniel had to admit, it was taking a long time. He’d been here alone now for at least a couple of hours. Working to keep his own fears concealed, he knew he needed to reassure Hanno. "No! Hanno, they don’t realize I’m, hurt. I, ah, I stayed on my own. Look, really, you can trust us. Please, trust *me*. I think I may know how we can avoid a massacre, but we have to work together."

The look on Hanno’s face confirmed that Daniel’s contention about his staying behind was a foreign concept to Hanno, that his people never would leave one of their own alone, not even healthy never mind injured or ill. But Hanno’s concern for his own people was clear to Daniel; it obviously over-rode everything else. "The Jaffa will seek out my people and show no mercy. What should we do first?" He gently sought to escape from under Daniel.

Daniel pulled himself to his knees. Not half bad; that morphine was great stuff. Daniel’s back still hurt and he was a bit nauseated, not to mention more than just a little light-headed, but he was at least somewhat mobile now. He gestured around him. "Hanno, the Jaffa? Did you check? Are they all, uhm, dead?"

"Those who were not, now are." Hanno’s face was impassive, but his eyes were cold.

Daniel could understand his point of view. "Okay. You need to go to your people, Hanno. Let them hide somewhere else? Then you need to bring back some men, and we need to dispose of the bodies." Daniel glanced at his watch, did a rough mental calculation. It had maybe three and a half hours since the start of the Serpent Guard attack. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "There’s probably time to clean up a bit around here. Make it look like they never arrived in first place? If the Serpent Guards who follow Shak’l know that the... others... were killed here, they’ll want revenge." From the look on Hanno’s face, it was clear Daniel need not explain any further.

Hanno offered him an arm up. "Come then. We need to hurry."

Daniel knew that although he felt a bit better, he couldn’t go running around Cartaga. He’d just hold up Hanno, plus, Jack might come back. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged the possibility of a spinal injury which could only worsen without medical attention. Daniel shoved hard at that thought, resolving to keep it there at the far back corners of his mind, until the risk to the Byrsa no longer existed. "You go on. I’m okay here. I’ll wait here for my friends." Hanno gave him a long skeptical look, nodded, and was off at a run into the trees.

Settling himself to the task at hand, Daniel slowly moved to the cart with the intention of cleaning up the area immediately in front of the Stargate. He was pleased to find that as long as he moved carefully, avoiding twisting at the waist, and supported his weight on the side of the cart and whatever else he could find to hang on to, he could at least help out a little. Maybe the injury was just muscular, painful but otherwise insignificant? It would be okay... it would. But as he continued and as with each step the pain flared through the muscles of his back like an embrace, sweeping around over his sides and onto his abdomen, Daniel very nearly decided to give in to his anxiety and simply plop back down But, there was work to do, for his own safety as well as for the Byrsa. It was manageable; at least the pain in his legs was all but gone. He could do it. He had to do it.

He started to scoop up all that he could from the ground, piling everything on the cart. Hanno could take it away later. After a moment of thought, he untangled his vest and sidearm from the the two SGC packs and threw the packs on the cart as well, careful to keep the MedKit with him. Daniel struggled into the vest and, reluctantly, loosely strapped the weapon holster around his thigh. Then he took a good look around him, taking stock of what else would need doing.

 

* * *

 

"Unbelievable!"

Jack O’Neill let out a bellow that could wake the dead and turned a furious stare onto his Captain. She shrugged her shoulders up around her ears, grimacing. She had the second transmitter in her hand, having just waved it at him and told him that Daniel had not followed them through.

O’Neill had spent over two and a half hours with General Hammond and had just been heading down the hall to check on Teal'c, visions of a nice hot shower and something to eat dancing around in his oh so terribly aching head... and had been diverted by the insistent intercom page instructing him to return to the briefing room, stat. Only to find that it was because that  _not_ -benevolent God’s favourite thorn in his side had done it yet again. O’Neill could feel the sharp point of the thorn –  _Daniel_  – digging in deeper and deeper, about to draw blood. ‘I’ll show him blood’ he thought.

"Incredible. No, no... incredibly  _stupid_." O’Neill paced the length of the briefing room, waving his arms around, unable to decide whether frustration or worry had the upper hand. "Of all the ridiculous, idiotic..."

General Hammond looked as though he couldn’t figure out whether to be concerned, annoyed, or both at the same time. He shot Jack a very officious General-ly look which clearly said that the Colonel had best reduce the volume, like, right now. "Captain Carter, do you mean to tell us that Dr. Jackson is still back on P3X-1279?"

"Well, yes, Sir. The guards confirmed that he never came through behind us. And he doesn’t have a remote transmitter, Sir, so he can’t come through on his own."

"And did no one think to inform anybody? That was, what, almost three hours ago! Colonel, did he have permission to stay?"

O’Neill felt exhausted beyond rational thought. "No, no, of course not. But when does he ever think he needs permission to do anything?"

"Colonel O’Neil!" Hammond silenced Jack quite effectively. "I take it there has been some interpersonal strain on this mission?" Not waiting for a reply, Hammond continued, "Go back and get him, Colonel. Right now. I don’t like the idea of any of my people being left behind. And Colonel? He had better be all right."

"Aw for crying out loud. He was too slow to make it to the 'gate. He's probably just  _sulking_. That’s all!" Even as Jack said the words, a small part of him recognized them for what they were: a selfish denial of his own culpability. The larger part of him, the part that was still angry with Daniel, wouldn’t allow him to admit that out loud, though.

Anger which seemed to rival that of his ownh flared in the General’s face. "Colonel O’Neil, while it’s interesting to hear that Dr. Jackson has something to sulk about – and the two of you will both have to enlighten me further on that later – I never want to hear you  _even imply_  that it's all right for anyone to ever be left behind, no matter their own role in it. Is that clear?"

Jack’s head snapped around. Right, of course; that was a given, and he was being a self-indulgent idiot. Nobody gets left behind, of course. "I didn’t mean..." He trailed off, slowly starting to think beyond his own frustration and impatience. He hadn’t meant it, but he _had_ said it. That small part of him was getting larger.

"General..." The expression on Carter’s face was one of worry and rapidly dawning comprehension. "There’s a slight possibility that Daniel might have been, uh, injured, Sir. Uh, in the, the attack." She looked pointedly at Jack. "It may be that he couldn’t follow us through quickly enough, before the wormhole shut down. It’s entirely possible that he couldn’t help being left behind."

Jack woke up, fully and completely. He had left Daniel behind. He had knocked him down, for Christ sake, and then turned his back on him. With a sudden knot in his chest the size of Cheyenne Mountain itself, he grabbed the transmitter from Carter. "Let’s go."

 

* * *

 

‘Crud.’ Daniel felt awful. He’d done all he could for the moment; now, he had to rest. He grabbed the nearest solid object, hoping that with the additional support he’d be able to stay on his feet. Falling down would really hurt.

Several Byrsa men had returned not long after Hanno had left. They reported that the Byrsa were relocating deeper into the woods, to areas away from the traditional paths they normally took to the Hiding. Upon Daniel’s instructions, they’d gathered up the Jaffa bodies and assorted debris which could not be easily hidden, placing everything on a cart positioned on the dias, right in front of the Stargate. Hanno was there now, surveying the area in front of the Stargate, casting an appreciative look in Daniel’s direction. That acknowledgement meant a lot to Daniel. Considering that he couldn’t even stand up without hanging on to something for support, he knew he had done a pretty good job. He’d dealt with the two eating areas on opposite sides of the clearing, placing the scattered food into bowls, gathering and disposing of broken items. He had cleared away all of the debris and spilled contents of the broken cart; laboriously – and not without significant pain – righting the cart and loading everything on it.

As Hanno gestured for the others to remove the cart, Daniel knew that this was a dangerous time. It was long since the first Jaffa attack, and there was a cart full of dead Jaffa sitting right in front of the Stargate. If the Stargate activated now it would do part of the work for him, but not all... not enough. This was no time to decompensate, but with all the physical activity the effect of the morphine was ebbing quickly. The pain was beginning to radiate down his legs once again, and Daniel felt the telltale signs of an impending major muscle spasm to his back; the tightness was rapidly becoming an overwhelming distraction. Not even three hours of relief out of 15mgs of morphine... Daniel knew that didn’t bode well at all for him being able to make it into the woods.

Trying in vain to swallow rising bile, he felt the telltale heaviness of jaw and thickness of his mouth and throat, as a chill spread through him. Unable to hold it back any longer Daniel dropped to all fours, his stomach heaving. The pain flared immensely and his arms and legs reacted quite unfavourably; Daniel would have dropped face first into his own vomit had it not been for the strong arms which suddenly supported him around his waist.

He couldn’t afford this. There was work to be done here, and if Jack wasn’t going to  _ever show up where the hell was he_  then Daniel would have to be sure it got done. Fortunately, Hanno had understood Daniel’s strategy; that if they removed as many signs as possible of the previous attack, maybe the Goa’uld would think that Shak’l never even made it here. They would still want hosts, but if the people had hidden themselves well enough then maybe they’d be safe. His throat still constricting in response to his pain and nausea, Daniel looked over his shoulder at Hanno and motioned toward the DHD. He had to get over to the DHD.

Hanno assisted him, and Daniel hung on to the DHD for dear life. He was fading fast, the burning returning with a vengeance and his vision starting darken at the periphery. He couldn’t use the address for home; he didn’t want SGC to worry about who was knocking on their door. While it was likely that they would realize it was him – and maybe, maybe,  _maybe_  they’d finally  _get their butts out here_  and get him – there was the possibility that they would interpret the unexpected activation as a threat. That had happened before, and General Hammond tended to lock things down when he felt threatened. No, it would have to be somewhere else. Somewhere where the inexplicable gate activity wouldn’t alarm any locals; Daniel didn’t want to frighten anyone. There was one address that was forever emblazened in his mind; no way he’d misdial that one, the memories sharp and clear, likely to stay with him until the day he died. Warning the Byrsa to stay far back, Daniel pushed the glyphs for Nem’s planet.

Thay all watched as the Stargate activated, as the powerful gush of energy enveloped the cart and disintigrated the evidence. Daniel sagged against the DHD as the Byrsa stared in shock at the fearsome sight of what was once living matter being blasted into oblivion. Two more times, Daniel activated the gate, until all that was left was the remnants of the cart which sat too low on the dias to have come into contact with the energy flow.

 

* * *

 

It was quiet on the other side of the Stargate. O’Neill and Carter stood on the steps and looked around. There was not a soul in sight; certainly, there was no Daniel Jackson waiting for them.

The place had been cleared up some, the chaos of the earlier Jaffa attack hidden behind a semblance of tidiness. The fallen cart was missing, along with it’s spilled load, however the place was once again deserted. Jack had a bad feeling. There was something not kosher, not right at all here. He motioned silently to Carter and she nodded and held her weapon at ready. He could see that she felt it, too. As Carter moved over to stand at the DHD, Jack approached the area where the cart had been. His heart leaped into his throat and threatened to choke him as he saw what lay on the ground, mostly buried in loose dirt. A syringe, uncapped... he bent to pick it up, and dirt flew into his face.

He heard the blasts first, then became aware of the bright flashes of energy coming from the buildings across the clearing. He heard another sound, the Stargate; Carter was dialing. Jack lunged for the object on the ground just as he caught sight of the Jaffa flooding out of the enclosure toward them. God... more Jaffa... Realization of what Daniel must have been trying to tell him hit, and with it, a burst of anger at himself so strong as to be momentarily disabling.

Carter fired on their attackers as she placed her hand on the center of the DHD. A blast hit the side of the DHD and she quickly dodged sideways. "Sir!" "Come on! We have to go!"

Jack cast a quick glance around him, firing to cover Carter’s retreat through the Stargate. Wherever Daniel was, he couldn’t help him right now. Reluctantly, Jack backed up the steps and into wormhole.

Breaking through into the SGC both he and Carter hollered for the Iris to be closed as several staff blasts surged out of the wormhole beside them. General Hammond stood at the base of the ramp, shock completely taking over his face. "Where’s Dr. Jackson?"

Jack sat down heavily on the ramp. "Sir, I don’t know, Sir." He put his head in his hands and took a few deep breaths. "We didn’t have a chance to look for him."

Carter looked ashen. "We were only there a minute, and there were Jaffa... they were in the buildings... they must have heard our arrival through the Stargate, Sir. They attacked us." She turned to face Jack, her face and voice pleading with him to reinforce her actions. "We had...  _had_  to leave. Didn’t we?"

General Hammond walked up the ramp to O’Neill. "What do you have there?" He took the used syringe, needle still attached, out of Jack’s hand. "This... is this from one of our Kits?"

"Found it on the ground."

Carter, seeing it for the first time, took it from Hammond. Jack saw her face fall, saw his own anxiety plainly mirrored there, as she looked at the condition of the small amount of fluid remaining in the chamber. "Oh no. Sir. This is morphine. From a MedKit... Sir, the syringe has blood aspirate in it." It was obvious to all of them that the missing fluid had been injected, not just lost into the dirt. Sam’s voice was soft. "Not even a third of a ml. left. That means at the very least, um, over 12 mg gone." The implications were clear. Someone was hurting, and not just a little, either.

General Hammond asked "Perhaps he was helping someone else? One of the Byrsa? You just said the Jaffa are there. Perhaps one of the locals was injured and Dr. Jackson is helping them." Both O’Neill and Carter shook their heads.

"No Sir. Unlikely." Jack knew that it was not one of the Byrsa who had been the recipient of the contents of the syringe. "It was right by the Stargate, out in the open. The Goa’uld aren’t in the habit of supporting equal access to medical care. It had to have been used before the Jaffa arrived." There was something awful nibbling at the edges of Jack’s mind; what? He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see Carter staring at him with a horrified expression on her face.

"Sir? If he took that much intravenously..."

Jack looked at her, appalled at that thought which had crossed his mind in the instant befoe she had voiced it. "He wouldn’t do that, Carter. He’s not stupid..." Yeah, but if he was hurt, if  _someone_  hurt him, and he was, maybe, not too clear-headed... Jack aborted that line of thought before it could get the better of him. "No. Some must have spilled out; I’m pretty sure I snagged the plunger when I picked it up."

Jack’s gut twisted. No, Daniel couldn’t have done that, he wouldn’t have overdosed himself.  _Yeah, you just keep trying to convince yourself._ This was all his fault. It didn’t take a mental giant to understand what had happened. It couldn’t have been the Jaffa who injured Daniel; they wouldn’t exactly stand by and watch while he treated himself. Jack knew it had to have been from before, from  _him_ , when he shoved the kid. He remembered catching a glimpse of Daniel as he precariously staggered back from the strong shove and then tripped, twisting and falling backwards over the debris strewn on the ground.

General Hammond shook his head at the two in front of him. He looked very confused, and Jack knew the General had to be wondering just why in the hell Daniel would have needed the drug in the first place. That question, thankfully, never came. "We’ll assemble a team. SG3 is on standby today; Colonel, you and Captain Carter brief them on the situation. We’ll wait an hour, let things settle down, and then send a probe through and have a look around."

 

* * *

 

Hanno was upset. He had watched in alarm from his hiding place as the Circle burst into life again but instead of bringing forth  _yet more_  Jaffa, it disgorged O’Neill and the woman, Carter. The response from the Jaffa was instantaneous; before the disturbance of the Circle had even settled into the silver shimmering, Hanno had heard them calling to one another, positioning themselves.

Now, Hanno watched not in alarm but with growing anger as he realized that O’Neill’s poor timing might place all of his people in grave danger. The one called Daniel had been right; the Jaffa had done a superficial search and finding no Byrsa and apparently no convincing evidence of the previous raiding party, they had just been preparing to leave. But then O’Neill had come. More and more, Hanno was feeling that O’Neill was not one to be relied upon. He still couldn’t comprehend that O’Neill had left Daniel, injured, on Cartago.

Yet, that one, Daniel; Hanno accepted his intuition that Daniel had honor to match that of the Byrsa. Hanno hadn’t believed for one moment that Daniel had chosen to remain behind, but if Daniel chose to defend his companion by claiming that he had done so of his own accord, Hanno had thought that perhaps O’Neill deserved the benefit of the doubt. But now... no. No more.

He silently crept forward a few feet in order to get a better view. Hanno saw O’Neill bend to pick up something, and immediately the air was filled with the noise and light of the Jaffa weapons. The Jaffa burst out from the buildings adjacent to the village square, and the newcomers fired back at them. The loud noise of the weapons held by O’Neill and Carter was even more fearsome than the flare of the staff weapons, but few of the Jaffa succumbed. It was confusing.

While it was a relief to see O’Neill and Carter successfully escape back through the Circle of Woe, Hanno’s heart fell as the Jaffa huddled together in conversation. He prayed for them to leave, to just  _go_ , but his prayers weren’t answered. With loud commands and rapid waving of arms, Hanno watched as one of them directed the others to begin a new exploration of the village, as several others found and settled into new places of concealment around the square. They were not going to leave. The Jaffa were staying; staying to lay in wait, staying to  _search_.

He would need to warn his people immediately; they would have to fade back into the forest even further. Hanno realized that for himself and his men that would not be so easy; with the Jaffa even now widening their search pattern they had to move very quickly, but the visitor Daniel was barely able to flinch, never mind run.

And there was no question; Hanno would  _not_  leave the young man behind. With a soft curse, he carefully backed out of his hiding place and crept away.

 

* * *

 

Burning-stabbing-shooting-squeezing-breath-stealing pain. Well beyond any measure of coping, Daniel pulled back from the hands that gripped him, from the arms looped underneath his own, that were relentlessly dragging him onwards. Unprepared for the sudden reisistance, the owners of the hands were surprised and their tight grip faltered just enough for Daniel to throw his weight to one side and slip out from the support of their arms.

Falling to his knees, jolts of fire lancing through his back and legs as he did so, Daniel’s only thought was that he would almost prefer to be captured by the Jaffa and get it all over with than struggle one step further. This was no good. In an instant Hanno’s hands were on his shoulders, the young Bursa’s face hovering before his own. Through a haze of his own sweat and unshed tears, Daniel could make out the impatience which lurked behind the concern in Hanno’s eyes.

Falling forward onto one outstretched arm, Daniel pushed out with the other, fighting against Hanno’s attempt to pull him upright. "No... I, I can’t..."

The answer was a low hiss. "Yes, you can. You  _must_. They are heading toward us."

As Hanno hauled on Daniel’s arms, a great explosion of fresh pain rocked him. He tried to lean away but couldn’t and Hanno pulled him to his feet. Daniel cried out and sagged, unable to support his own weight. Frustration welled; he had to make Hanno understand, but the Byrsa just was not listening. "No. Hanno... really... I can’t. I’ll just get you all killed. Please, just go..."

Instead of answering, Hanno dragged Daniel to one side, pulling him into a dense patch of bushes and guiding him to the ground. Hanno turned and moved several feet away, and Daniel heard him instruct the other men to leave. He also heard the argument which ensued. Fear joined with the frustration as he realized that the others were unwilling to go. While Daniel appreciated their readiness to protect him he knew it would be their downfall, and that thought was unbearable. Even now Daniel could hear the steady weapons fire of the Jaffa, not far off in the distance, as they advanced through the forest and fired into the thick undergrowth in an attempt to flush out anyone who might be hiding there.

Daniel listened as Hanno’s men steadfastly refused to leave them, insisting that if the stranger was unable to go any further that they would all make their stand right here, together. He heard Hanno argue in favour of the safety of his men, in favour of them leaving to protect the women and children who hid further in the woods. Daniel had to stifle the sardonic laugh which bubbled up in his throat.  _Now_  the guy caught on to the concept...  _now_ , after all that had gone on before in the Cor-ai.

The staff blasts were getting louder. Daniel could smell the acrid stench of burnt foliage and could hear the crashing as small trees were vivsected by the bolts of energy from the weapons of the Jaffa. He would need to find the strength to tolerate the pain... it was only pain, after all; it wasn’t as though he couldn’t move his legs or feel the ground underneath him. Daniel gave a fleeting thought to the second syringe of morphine, but knew it wouldn’t work; he’d just become drowsy again. But then again, if he fell asleep... No. Undoubtably, Hanno would just scoop him up and even though he’d be carried rather than dragged stumbling through the woods, he’d be just as much an impediment to the Byrsa’s speedy escape from the Jaffa as he was now. Asleep or awake, it would make no difference to the fate of the Byrsa.

Suddenly, a loud blast off to one side thundered through the air and debris showered down into the bushes around him as the limbs of a nearby tree shattered from a staff weapon blast. Hanno and his men scurried about, forming a semi-circle around the brush in which Daniel lay. Their backs to him, weapons raised and eyes searching the woods around them, the Byrsa reinforced their spoken refusal to leave Daniel behind – their intent to protect him even at risk to themselves – with concrete action. Hanno repeatedly turned his face back toward Daniel, checking on him, giving Daniel an assured nod every few moments. If Hanno thought the gesture to be reassuring to Daniel, he was mistaken.

"Hanno..." The young Byrsa turned his head and with a sharp motion indicated that Daniel should be quiet, but Daniel knew he couldn’t let this happen. He had to try once more. "No. Hanno, listen to me. You have to leave. I will be fine... I’ll hide here..."

"No." The refusal was a harsh whisper, brooking no argument.

Oh,God, please, don’t do this. "Hanno. This is no good. Please... don’t do this to me..."

Hanno’s eyes widened in non-comprehension. He sidled back a few steps, moving closer to Daniel and bending over him. "We do nothing to you. We are protecting you, as we do our own. You must be silent now. They are coming."

"No... Hanno, don’t you see? You can’t do this. You’re protecting me at the  _expense_  of your own. I can’t... Look, my people  _will_  come; they’ll help me, I’ll be fine. Please..."

Hanno leaned forward, his face twisted with anger. "It is because of your people we are forced to flee through the woods. They bring no help; they bring only disaster."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Your people, O’Neill and the woman, came back through the Circle as the Jaffa were preparing to leave. They brought this upon us." Hanno stabbed a forefinger at Daniel’s chest. "You are with our people now. You will do things our way, and you will be quiet."

Daniel’s heart sank as he realized what had happened, and why the Jaffa were now so aggressively pursuing them. They had seen his friends return for him, at the Stargate, and were searching Cartago for more Tau’Ri. At the same time Daniel felt an acute pang of worry for Jack and Sam’s safety, hope rose that this might mean there was a solution for the Byrsa. "Wait... my friends, did they..."

"They escaped through the Circle of Woe." Hanno backed away and stood up to return to his men.

"Wait Hanno, just a minute. The Jaffa are searching for more of my kind. If you say that it was my people who brought this on, then let me  _fix_  it. It’s me the Jaffa want. Maybe they’ll leave your..."

Hanno had clearly had enough conversation. He gave Daniel a piercing look. "We know what they do. And we know what we must do. Our mandates deserve your respect. Enough, or you will draw them right to us." Hanno moved away, returning to his post in the semi-circle of those who would face death for someone they barely knew.

Daniel knew the Jaffa were heading right toward them; he knew, and he knew that Hanno was well aware as well, that their soft voices were not a factor in the outcome of this. The noise of the Jaffa’s approach, the frequent staff blasts and arrogant, careless destruction of the forest, was far in excess of any noise Daniel and Hanno’s group would ever make. Daniel could holler his head off, could shoot off a cannon of his own, and it would make no difference in the long run.

A cannon... he could shoot off...

Daniel took a deep breath as realization of possibly the only way out of this mess for Hanno and his men forced it’s way through his pain-addled consciousness. As it was, there was still time for the Byrsa to escape; to run and silently meld with the forest, to lose themselves in familiar territory. But with every second that passed...

 

* * *

 

"They will not have left there." Teal’c didn’t need to the MALP playback. He knew that no matter what the display might show, the Jaffa would remain on Cartago for quite some time. They would search, and even after they had found Daniel Jackson and the Byrsa and exacted punishment, they would stay and wait to see if the Tau’ri would once again appear through the Stargate. Teal’c mentally berated himself. This was his fault. He had allowed his guilt to interfere with the functioning of the team, and now... as a result of his actions Daniel Jackson was missing, undoubtably injured and possibly captured, or worse, by the Jaffa.

Daniel Jackson’s impassioned and intelligent arguments in support of him replayed in Teal’c’s mind. That support had been swiftly and willingly given; unconditional, despite Teal’c’s culpability in what Teal’c knew was the worst moment of Daniel Jackson’s young life – the moment Daniel stared into the cold eyes of the shell of the woman he loved and realized that his wife, his  _life_ , had been utterly and savagely ripped away.  _"I wanted to hate him at first..."_  You should have, Daniel Jackson... you should...

"We must go now. They will be guarding the Stargate, but we will defeat them. There is no more time." Teal’c drew himself up to his full height and stared intently at General Hammond. O’Neill stood there at the General’s side, but Teal’c couldn’t look at O’Neill just now. There was simply too much barely held inside, too much which threatened to break free at any moment and interfere with what had to remain their primary focus – retrieving Daniel Jackson – to chance meeting one another’s eyes. Teal’c could see, in the way in which the Colonel held himself and the shifting of his eyes, that O’Neill felt it as well.

So very much... how, incredibly, they did not realize that Daniel Jackson was not with them, and how O’Neill had not called him from his quarters the moment they realized their friend had not followed them home; how they had waited for a full hour – an hour during which Daniel was at dire risk, should he even still be alive – before considering another attempt to return to Cartago. Especially unbearable was the injustice of O’Neill having taken out his frustration on the only person who had truly respected Teal’c’s wishes and fought not to  _destroy_  what little he had left of his honour, but to defend it.

"The area around the Stargate is quiet. Teal’c are you certain they’re still there?" General Hammond was still watching the video playback. "I don’t see any sign of enemy activity. But, if there’s any chance that they are, I’m not sure it’s wise to..."

"General. They are there. We must go without further procrastination. Had I been aware of this unwise delay before now, I would have sought to prevent it. If Daniel Jackson has been taken, they may even now have removed him through the Stargate." Captain Carter’s sudden intake of breath indicated that he had at least caught one person’s attention. He turned to her. "You know as well as I that he cannot evade them; we saw him fall. Even the Byrsa will not evade them this time."

General Hammond straightened up noticeably and shot a hard, questioning look at O’Neill who turned away abruptly, his back ramrod straight. Teal’c’s own muscles felt as if they were in knots and his symbiote reacted to his tension with agitation of it’s own, twisting and slithering in it’s pouch. The sensation was a welcome distraction from the memory of seeing Daniel Jackson half laying on the ground, one arm extended out toward them, as they ignorantly entered the Stargate. This delay was intolerable... Teal’c turned to face O’Neill, his anger getting the better of him, but a small hand was placed firmly up against his chest.

"No, Teal’c... wait." Carter murmered at him softly. She then turned to General Hammond. "With respect, Sir, we’re wasting time here. We can’t see any sign of them... if they aren’t there, we’ll be okay. And if they are still there, then there’s no way of telling how long they’ll stay. Begging your pardon, Sir, but Daniel is out there and we have to go get him, either way. We need to go  _now_ , Sir."

Teal’c spun on his heel without waiting for a response. It was intolerable to stand around in duscussion when a specific course of action was not only required, but long overdue. He felt as though he would explode is he stood still one more moment. "I shall await you in the embarkation room..." He finally looked O’Neill in the eye as he passed him. "Colonel O’Neill."

As he rounded the corner at the top of the steps and started down, Teal’c saw O’Neill wave at Carter, silently instructing her to leave as well, and then turn to address General Hammond, a look of guilty determination on his face.

 

* * *

 

He would not be responsible for the capture or deaths of these people. It was totally unacceptable. Neither the approach of the Jaffa nor his own words had changed their minds, but Daniel knew of one thing, probably the only thing, which would... one thing which would make their stance pointless and send them, finally, off into the forest where they would have at least half a chance at survival. There was no time left; if they were to get away, he’d have to do this now. He reached down and manipulated the strap holding the Berreta in place in it’s holster. Praying that he would somehow find the determination to actually pull this off, he slid the weapon out and brought it up to his chest, pushing his finger through the tirgger guard and grasping the gun in both hands as he released the safety. He looked up to see Hanno staring at him.

"That is a weapon? Like the large one of O’Neill which makes so much noise?"

Daniel nodded.

"Will it kill?"

Ohhh, yeah. Oh God.

"It makes a large noise as well?" Hanno came closer and bent down on one knee, looking with interest at the handgun. "It is small. It can be easily concealed when we face capture..." He put out his hand. "Give it to me; show me how it is used."

Daniel instinctively shuffled back away from the man, his back flaring as he did so. The pain filled him, stopping his breath and stealing the ability to speak. Tears stinging at his eyes, he shook his head and clutched the gun to tighter his chest. No. He couldn’t have it; Daniel would not let him take it away. Ironically enough, the gun was the Byrsa’s lifeline but turning it over to Hanno would mean their deaths. He struggled to control the pain, and found his voice. "This is the trigger." He wiggled his trigger finger slightly. "When you pull it, the gun fires a projectile at high speed through this tube."

"There is no time left... you must give it to me." Hanno reached out and almost touched the barrel, but Daniel pulled the gun away, holding it in a tight two-handed grip up at his shoulder. "This projectile... it is deadly?"

"Very." Gritting his teeth, Daniel shifted backwards to settle more firmly against the large tree behind him. Another nearby strike from a staff weapon sent leaves fluttering down onto them. "Hanno..." Daniel deliberately took aim, the menace in the act unmistakable. Hanno’s eyes widened in obvious confusion and shock as he stared at the barrel of the gun. "You and your men have to leave, Hanno. Now."

"Why do you do this? We are only trying to protect you..." Daniel could see the confusion still clouding Hanno’s face, but the shock was rapidly being replaced with anger.

"No. You protect nothing but a philosophy. Believe me, that’s pointless if no one is going to live to appreciate it." Daniel wasn’t at all sure if he believed that, but whatever it took to get these people to leave, he’d say it; he’d do it. He set his jaw and put all of the authority, all of the false self-assurance, he could muster into his tone. "Go, Hanno. Now. Or I  _will_  fire the weapon."

Hanno’s face was a kaleidoscope of emotion; disbelief, anger, fear, frustration, uncertainty. Abruptly, he turned and faded back to his men. Daniel could hear the low drone of their voices, the beginning of their conversation, but couldn’t quite make out the words. He kept his white-knuckle grip on the gun, the end of the barrel pressed firmly against his own throat, his hands shaking with the knowledge that if it came right down to it, he was pretty sure he didn't have the nerve to actually fire the damned thing. If they didn’t listen, if they decided instead to try to take the gun from him, he knew he would have to find the courage in a hell of a hurry. The Jaffa were close now and it was clear from Hanno's interest in the gun that the Byrsa would willingly die than be prisoners.

He lowered the gun and tried to crawl to one side, to go further into the brush, hoping to give himself a precious few more seconds should they refuse to leave; hoping to conceal himself in order to do what might have to be done – or, more like, to _fail_  miserably – in privacy... but that proved impossible to do without a whole lot of noise that Daniel didn’t want to make. Any movement of his legs, and the stabbing pain became unbearable. The attempt to slither deeper into the bushes and the cry he was unable to hold back attracted Hanno’s attention. As Hanno stepped closer Daniel reasserted his aim and Hanno raised a hand, turning back to his men, the upraised hand still held high as he spoke with them yet again. The tones became louder and more urgent, and then the voices stopped entirely. And then, unbelievably, miraculously and incredibly, they were gone.

Unable to fully comprehend that they had actually left, Daniel pulled himself forward to have a better look. The feet and legs he’d been able to see through the underbrush, the heads and shoulders which had topped the bushes, were no longer visible. He had to be certain, though; there could be no mistake. Daniel laboriously, painfully, rolled onto his hands and knees, the gun still tightly clutched in his right hand against the ground. Nausea washed over him as his back protested the movement. Shuffling forward inch by agonizing inch until he reached the nearby tree, Daniel pushed himself upright, reaching out with his left hand to brace himself against the tree trunk. He took a good look around to find that like wraiths in the dark, the Byrsa had indeed twisted and faded and simply disappeared.

Both stressed and relieved beyond measure, Daniel sagged against the tree and closed his eyes, his whole body shaking violently and sliding slowly down the tree trunk as his legs lost their will to hold him up. The pain in his back was relentless, the act of standing having provoked a massive and prolonged muscle spasm which was spreading to envelope even his chest and shoulders. His heartbeat thrummed too loudly in his ears and his vision darkened to the point that he was no longer able to discern the intermittent flares of light from the staff weapons. It was all Daniel could do just to keep hold of the handgun.

As he sank toward the ground, Daniel suddenly realized that it wasn’t just him; the noises of the Jaffa and the explosions of the energy blasts didn’t just seem more distant... they  _were_  more distant. Just as he awkwardly hit the ground, his legs folding underneath him with a flare of white hot pain which Daniel knew was the absolute last straw, he understood the sudden absence of the Byrsa for what it really was. Frustrated beyond measure, Daniel slammed his fist into the ground and cried out in inarticulate dismay just before the darkness took over completely.

 

* * *

 

The battle was short and, Jack thought, infinitely  _sweet_. It had taken all of fifteen minutes for SG1-minus-one and SG3 to ensure that all of the Jaffa in the village were dealt with, and only ten more to wheedle out of the remaining survivor where the rest of the Jaffa had gone. Their captive wasn’t very smart, and arrogantly surrendered the information without even realizing it under Teal’c’s manipulative questioning. Not that they really needed to ask; the swathe of destruction leading deep into the forested area behind the Stargate told the story all too well.

"Makepeace, take your men and head around to the left. We’ll go right." Jack indicated the areas he wanted covered with a wave of his hand. Parallel the trail they left, but don’t cross it. We’ll do the same from the other side. If you come across any of the Byrsa... try not to shoot them, okay." He didn’t need to tell them to be quiet, nor did he need to tell them what to do should they find Daniel. This time, Daniel was going to be the  _first_  one through the Stargate, no matter what.

SG3 was quick off the mark, Makepeace leading his team into the woods with the assurance of a soldier well used to clandestine operations. Teal’c immediately moved to head off, but no matter the urgency they all felt, Jack thought they couldn’t leave just yet. Just a few minutes; it might get pretty hairy out there, and Jack needed a few minutes to see where they stood here.

"Teal’c..." the big man stopped, turning only his head. Jack stared at the stern profile and wondered if this was repairable. He took a deep breath and felt it catch in his chest. "Teal’c... before we go I need... I need to know if you trust me. I need to know that we can work together here." He was aware of Carter fidgeting nervously behind him. The silence drew out for a long moment, then for two long moments, and just when Jack’s heart plummeted at the thought that he had his answer, Teal’c spoke.

"Daniel Jackson needs us. We will work together." Teal’c didn’t move, didn’t turn around.

"That wasn’t really the question, Teal’c."

"Are you sorry?" This time, Teal’c did move, turning his head away as he spoke so that all Jack had to draw from was the stiff stance.

Jack wasn’t sure exactly which part of his ignorance Teal’c was referring to – there was so much to be sorry for – but the answer would be the same regardless of the context. God yes. Yes, he was sorry. Jack was sorry Daniel had taken the brunt of his frustration, sorry the young man had been left behind, sorry that their return here had been delayed... "God, Teal’c. Of course, I’m sorry."

Teal’c’s head raised ever so slightly higher but he did not turn around, nor did he speak. Instead, the voice came from behind Jack; a soft, tentative question which chilled his blood and left him feeling confused and hurt. "Are you sorry because of the results of what happened, Sir, or... or because it happened in the first place?"

Jack closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t any good at this at all. She would never know,  _ever_ , just what this was doing to him. God, Daniel...

"Both, Carter. Look, I screwed up. I got so involved in what I... Oh, hell."

Teal’c had turned around. His eyes bored into Jack, making him feel incredibly insignificant. "You informed General Hammond of what occurred?"

"Yes." And it wasn’t pretty, Teal’c. Not pretty at all.

"Then my trust in you remains, O’Neill. Let us go now."

Jack suddenly found himself watching the retreating back of Teal’c as he headed with giant strides into the woods. He felt a light touch on his arm as Carter passed him to follow Teal’c, and he reached out and took her by the forearm. "Carter... " He realized he didn’t know quite what he needed from her; he didn’t know what he wanted to say and he knew that even if he did, he probably wouldn’t even be able to begin. He let go of her arm.

"It’s okay, Sir. We’ll find him. Daniel’s okay, Sir... he has to be." She gave him a quick, definitive nod and turned away to follow Teal’c.

Well, at least  _she_  knew what he needed from her.

 

* * *

 

An uncomfortable warmth in the small of his back and the feel of the earth under his body were the second and third sensations Daniel slowly became aware of as he woke up. The first, and by far the most easily interpreted, was the fullness of his bladder. He lay quietly for a moment, getting his bearings. He became aware of the smell of the foliage around him and of the sound of tall trees swaying in a breeze, and he remembered he was in the forest. He heard soft birdsong and gentle rustling of leaves, and then gradually became aware of indistinct and intermittent noises that had no proper place in these woods. Staff blasts, off in the distance... and something else... something...

Gunfire. It sounded like gunfire.

Daniel’s eyes snapped open and his limbs jerked uncontrollably at the sudden recognition of  _exactly_  where he was and what had brought him here... and at the thought that Jack must be here, somewhere, as well. For a moment he was frozen in place, afraid to move; afraid of the Jaffa, and of the pain. But then he realized there was considerably less pain than what he recalled; by far, the pressure of his bladder was more noticeable than the discomfort in his back. He tentatively moved his legs and found that although heat lanced down the back of both thighs, it was bearable. Maybe the pain before was just temporary; simply a sprain, and it was going away now. Yes. He was getting better. That was good, because he’d have to get moving; he'd have to take care of that full bladder before too long.

Daniel rolled onto his side and raised himself up onto one arm... and unexpectedly found himself face to waist with Hanno. The Byrsa was sitting cross-legged, silent and unmoving, not two feet in front of Daniel’s face. In his lap, he held the Beretta. Daniel stared at the gun, his breath caught in his chest, a huge question hovering there like a hot air balloon. It expanded until his chest felt it would burst and then it rose into his throat, choking him. He forced it out, not able to bring himself to look up at Hanno as he gave voice to his fear.

"Your people?" Daniel closed his eyes for a second in anticipation of an answer he didn’t really want, but knew he had, to hear. When he opened them and looked up at Hanno’s face, he saw what he thought was barely concealed anger there. Daniel felt a sudden chill come over him as Hanno’s eyes met his own, and he shivered violently, apprehension, anxiety and guilt all but overcoming his ability to hold himself up.

Hanno’s eyes softened somewhat, and the young Byrsa smiled faintly at Daniel. "My people are safe. The Jaffa are retreating, but we guard the Circle and none will be allowed to escape." Hanno turned the weapon over in his hands, regarding it with some seriousness. The remnants of the smile disappeared. "Your people arrived. Their noisy weapons and aggressive behavior are driving the Jaffa back away from the new Hiding."

Daniel thought he’d burst into tears, so great was his relief. Jack  _was_ out there, and the Byrsa had evaded the Jaffa. But Hanno was still toying with the gun. Daniel reached out for it, trying to see whether or not the safety was still off, but in a repeat of Daniel’s earlier motion Hanno pulled the weapon away and held it up at his shoulder, an inscrutable epression on his face. It didn’t take much thought for Daniel to decide that Hanno was more than just a little annoyed with him.

"Hanno... please. That thing is very dangerous."

"You did not fear it before."

Sure, like hell. "I always fear it... I hate it. Look, turn it over; see right by your hand there, there’s a small lever. You need to tell me exactly what position it’s in." Hanno turned the gun so that Daniel could see the safety. It was off. Daniel’s heart leapt to his throat as he saw Hanno’s finger was inside the trigger guard. "Hanno, you need to keep your finger off the trigger and flip that lever the other way. Carefully."

"Why?"

"It’s a safety mechanism and right now it’s in the ‘off’ position. The gun could fire. Please, Hanno. I don’t want any accidents here."

"No. No accidents." Hanno flipped the safety on. He pointed the gun at Daniel. "You come to our home and you challenge our mandates, first through the Cor-ai and now with this. You used this against us; against our ways."

"Hanno, surely you understand? I meant no disrespect to your people, but I couldn’t live with being responsible for your... Oh God, Hanno... it’s against  _my ways_."  Daniel didn’t even try to keep his bitterness out of his voice. "Besides, you deceived me. You only left me to draw the Jaffa away. At least I was honest about my actions."

"Honest? I doubt that. You would really have carried out your threat?" The expression on Hanno’s face said that he didn’t believe for one minute Daniel would have killed himself. "No. You simply wished to force us to abandon our ways in favour of your own."

Daniel wasn’t all together certain himself if he would have been able to carry out the threat, but he did know, without a shadow of a doubt, that with the Jaffa only minutes away the threat had not been made idly. "No. I didn’t do it just to manipulate you. Well, actually, yes, I guess I sort of did do it to manipulate you, but I was honest, Hanno. I don’t know if I would have had the courage to finish it, but I meant it."

"If I am to believe that..." Hanno looked at Daniel intently; seemed to stare right through him. "Yes. I do. I believe you are honourable." Hanno threw the gun down on the ground. His confusion was obvious, but his tone was one of insulted righteousness. "You would have preferred to die by your own hand than to respect our mandates."

Hanno was accusing him of disrespect. Daniel felt anger stirring. God, if it weren’t for his insistence on paying deference to cultural mandates he really had no understanding of, if he hadn’t misguidedly held that principle over and above the safety of the team, he and Jack wouldn’t have... Teal’c wouldn’t have been...

The memory of his failed participation in the Cor-ai and the irony of Hanno’s accusation pushed Daniel’s anger into the open. "No! I don’t disrespect your people, Hanno. I was trying to protect them. Isn’t that your fundamental philosophy; that you protect one another? Yet you claim you don’t understand self-sacrifice? That’s self-serving, Hanno. Just like it was in the Cor-ai."

Hanno jumped to his feet, his face reddening. "You know nothing of this! You know nothing of us! To allow such a sacrifice is to deny the value of our lives; it is a dishonour!"

"No! I don’t believe your people truly believe that. I could see that on their faces, in their eyes, at the Cor-ai. It was only you who refused to acknowledge that Teal’c did what he had to, for the good of the many. I don’t understand why you insist on claiming that you don’t understand..."

"It is a lack of respect!"

"No it is  _not_.  I don’t understand you; it’s just the opposite..." Caught up in trying to make sense of Hanno’s dogmatic position, Daniel instinctively tried to support his words with actions. He reared up onto his knees and spread his hands wide. The sudden sharp pains were all but incapacitating and with them Daniel realized that he wasn’t on the mend at all, but that the reduced pain of earlier was simply a result of the inactivity while he had been... asleep. He fell back against the tree and clenched his jaw, ducking his head to wait it out. He sqeezed his eyes shut as the world did a slow loop, and swallowed hard against the bile which rose into his mouth.

He felt Hanno’s hands on his shoulders and heard his voice, softened somewhat with sympathy. "The pain returns? Here... lay down... I will be back in a moment."

Daniel was vaguely aware of the feel of the ground underneath him and some indefinite noises alongside of the low moaning which he identified as coming from himself. This was bad again, so bad... In amongst a swirl of pinpoints of light in the blackness behind his closed eyelids, a roaring in his ears, and the intense heat in his back, Daniel felt a sudden pressure on his leg and opened his eyes to see Hanno with the second syringe, the needle uncapped and the point pressed firmly against his thigh.

Hanno’s hands, one gripping the syringe in a tight fist and the other pressed down heavily on Daniel’s thigh, were shaking. The young Byrsa’s eyes were wide with a combination of apprehension and determination. Daniel gasped, trying to both find and control enough air to tell Hanno what to do – to go  _fast_  and to be sure to pull back on the barrel before injecting the drug – but then what little air he had was lost in a huge exhalation of pain as Hanno inexoribly, very crookedly and far, far, far too slowly pushed down on the syringe, agonizingly sending the needle shearing into the muscle with a lack of finesse that rivalled even that of Nurse Clark. 

 

* * *

 

O’Neill turned his head, listening. Satisfied that at least in this general vicinty the Jaffa reisistance was overcome, he thumbed his radio switch. "Makepeace? Time to cross the streams." He listened to the affirmative response and then indicated to Teal’c and Carter to advance.

Teal’c gave him a raised eyebrow, while Carter tried to hide a smile. "He means we should head over toward SG3, Teal’c; to cross back over the Jaffa’s main path and try to squeeze any remaining Jaffa in the middle."

"Then why did he not say so?"

"I just did say so." Jack gave each of them a slight shove, and immediately regretted it as a vivd memory of what happened the last time he gave someone a shove flashed through his mind.

"It’s from a movie, Teal’c, called Ghostbusters. It was a, well, a fairly dangerous tactic they used to, ahm, defeat their enemy." Carter didn’t try to hide the smile this time.

"I see. Is there more to this tactic which will help us to locate Daniel Jackson?"

Oh thank you so much, Teal’c. Jack’s tension had lowered several notches as they’d run across several of the Byrsa in the woods during the firefight and learned that as far as the men knew, no one had been captured. But they still didn’t know where Daniel was, and now with Teal’c’s abrupt reminder, Jack felt the stress go up more than just a few notches again.

"No, actually, it refers to something they did with their weapons. See, they had these really nifty energy guns, and they..."

Jack listened to Carter explaining about movies that dealt with busting ghosts and crossing energy streams as he followed Teal’c and Carter through the trees. Teal’c was surprisingly receptive to the inane topic of conversation, asking the occasional semi-intelligent question, such as, what was a Sta-Puft marshmallow man and just how big was he? After several hours of skulking through the brush and similtaneously evading and hunting down the Jaffa, a spot of mood-lightening was probably just what they all needed, so he didn’t call a halt to it. It wasn’t distracting; they were all able to concentrate on their surroundings, alert for any noises or signals that there might be something in the brush around them which would require their attention.

Or so they thought. Abruptly, and with a stealth that was all at once both alarming and instructive, two Byrsa stepped out of the trees directly alongside Jack. He started and brought his weapon halfway around to bear before he even realized who they were. Shaking his head, knowing he ought to be chastising himself more than them, he lowered the rifle and complained. "For crying out loud! That’s a great way to get yourselves dead, you know that?"

The Byrsa looked at him with what he suspected, but wasn’t entirly certain, was amusement. Teal’c helped to clear up any question about that. "O’Neill. They were aware of our presence before we were of theirs. They took the leap on us." The Byrsa beamed. Amusement was a polite word for the look on their faces.

"It’s ‘got the jump on us’, Teal’c." Jack turned to the Byrsa. "We’re just doing a sweep, trying to be sure we got them all. But a few of them could be hiding out."

"Our people have searched. Behind us, the forest is clear." One of the Byrsa pointed in the direction SG1 was heading. "There are a number of Jaffa that way. They are making their way back to the village, but we are waiting at the Circle for them. They will not escape."

Jack nodded. He knew what was in store for those Jaffa, and truthfully, he had no qualms about what the Byrsa would do. The Jaffa couldn’t be allowed to return through the Stargate. Jack knew that the captive they had left tied up in the village square – the one who had brashly and undeniably truthfully told Teal’c they had not sent for reinforcements; that they were more than capable of destroying the Byrsa and the Tau’Ri on their own – was very likely not in remotely the same condition as they had left him. Hell, that was just fine. "Okay. So, we’re heading in the right direction then. Our other team is heading this way from across the other side. We’ll rout them out and catch them in the middle."

"We will join with you. You can show us your methods." The two Byrsa moved to head off, and then paused as one of them added a not so subtle joke at SG1’s expense. "You can teach us how to move silently through the forest." They grinned widely at one another.

"Wait." Carter stepped up to them. "We’re looking for our friend... he, he stayed here when we left before?"

The grins faded quickly, being replaced with concerned looks. The two men shuffled their feet a bit, and one of them nodded. Jack felt his stomach knot up; it was pretty clear they knew of Daniel, and whatever they had to say was not the best of news. "Well? You know where he is?"

"Yes. We know where we left him."

They weren’t exactly a fountain of information. Carter go to it before Jack could. "You left... Oh God. Is he all right? Perhaps one of you could take us to him? Or tell us the way?"

The taller of the two turned away from Carter to stare at Jack. "Hanno returned to watch over him. That way, across the creek. We left him concealed in the woods which border the meadow. By the largest stand of trees. We cleared the area of the Jaffa, but Hanno may have decided to move him, if your friend became able to do so." The tone wasn’t exactly friendly. "You worry about him, now?"

Under normal circumstances Jack knew his reaction to the animosity and barely concealed accusation would have been anything but docile. Now though, he was acutely aware of Teal’c and Carter waiting on his reply, and even more aware of the heavy stone sinking in his stomach. They had left Daniel with Hanno to be ‘watched over’... Hanno may have decided to ‘move him’... Jack closed his eyes for a moment, and then returned the stare. He made an effort to keep his voice as quiet and as level as he could. "Yes. We’re worried. Very worried... and now we’d like you to answer the question, right? What condition is he in?"

"Your friend cries out with pain and cannot walk. His stomach... he becomes ill with the pain." The smaller of the two Byrsa gave Carter a sympathetic look upon hearing her sharp intake of air. "Hanno found him at the Circle after you had first left. He was injured then. He took some of your... your... medicine?" Carter nodded. "He helped us to prepare for the coming of the Jaffa, but then he fell ill again. We took him into the forest with us. We stayed with him to protect him from the Jaffa’s approach but..."

Uh oh. The last thing Jack wanted to hear just then was a ‘but’.

"But he is very stubborn." The tall Byrsa turned to Carter and raised his hands in a gesture of hopeless resignation. "How do you people function together?"

 

* * *

 

Deja vu. Through a thick haze in his head, Daniel became aware of the warmth of Hanno’s body behind him and sighed. He had a distinct memory of having been there, done that, not all that long ago. He cautiously shifted his position, and behind him Hanno sat up straighter to support the adjustment. Opening his eyes, his head nestled in the hollow of Hanno’s shoulder, Daniel tentatively brought up his knees slightly and scraped his heels back and forth on the ground. Thankfully, the pain in his legs proved to be more or less insignificant; above it, he could feel the sensation of his legs coming into contact with Hanno’s as they sat back to front together.

A twinge in his thigh drew his attention. Daniel winced as he saw the large bloodstain on his pant’s leg. He reached down and cautiously pulled at the fabric. His hand looked... weird, distorted a bit, the fingers too long and seemingly moving too slowly. The cloth was stuck to his skin, the blood partially dried, a testament to the passage of an unknown amount of time. Once again he’d let the drug get the better of him.

"You are all right?" Hanno’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, in Daniel’s left ear.

Daniel became aware of the tension in Hanno’s body; of the tight grip of the other man’s hands under his elbows and the feel of a rapid heartbeat against his back. He tipped his head backwards slightly to look up at Hanno’s face. Hanno’s eyes were closed.

"Hanno… I’m okay. I’m fine. The Jaffa... are we safe here?" His own voice sounded just as strange as his hand looked.

"Yes. You screamed."

"I... what?"

"When I... gave the medicine."

Daniel recalled the not-so-wonderfully-memorable injection – the pain of the needle going in and the everlasting sting of the morphine as Hanno had taken infinitely more than forever to deliver the contents of the syringe – but nothing after that. He recalled it being painful, but as for screaming... "I, uh, I don’t remember that. I’m sorry." It wasn’t a far stretch to imagine just what had happened. He must have passed out right after Hanno had injected the drug.

"Twice."

Twice... what? "Uh... huh?" Oh, good. Really alert, Daniel.

"Twice. You screamed twice. And then the, the wound... was bleeding and would not stop."

Oh. Twice  _that_.

Insight penetrated the fog in his mind, and Daniel understood what Hanno’s tension was all about. The poor man probably thought he’d near killed him. Daniel glanced back down at his leg. The bloodstain was magnificent, covering much of his thigh from knee to hip and extending around to the back of the pant leg. "You needed to apply some pressure to it, to, uhm, push on it hard just over where the needle went in. It would have stopped pretty much right away." Surely Hanno would have known that; that pressure on a puncture stops the bleeding?

Hanno shifted behind him and Daniel leaned forward a bit, thinking Hanno wanted to get up. Heat swelled in his back and wondered if it was such a good idea, but then he felt the hands on his elbows pull him back, and sensed more than saw Hanno shaking his head. Daniel felt the vibration in Hanno’s chest as the Byrsa cleared his throat roughly and spoke. "I didn’t... Not to mind."

Daniel twisted around as best he could, and caught another glimpse of Hanno’s face. His head swam a bit with the motion and he blinked against a swirl of colour which passed through his field of vision. Hanno’s eyes were still closed. "Hanno? Never mind, what? Really, I’m okay. You did the right thing; I’m feeling much better." Yeah, better. Feeling, ohh, better. Vaguely, fleetingly, Daniel wondered why he hadn’t felt this spaced out after the previous injection.

"I didn’t... want to harm you further."

Huh? Daniel gazed at his thigh, and it struck him that Hanno was afraid of the needle and of the drug; he’d been afraid to apply pressure on the injection site. Hanno hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but, he’d been unconscious, he hadn’t even been awake... and that  _technique_...

Daniel heard a loud snort, and with a start realized it came from him. Suddenly his shoulders were shaking and he couldn’t get them to stop, the tears sprang to his eyes and he couldn’t blink them back, and then he heard an almost identical snort come from behind him and completely lost all hold on himself. He convulsed with uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down his face and both hands pulling his vest forward in an attempt to apply some tension and brace his back. He felt and heard Hanno behind him, caught in the throes of a similar release.

"Fearful it would harm..."

"Not even awake... Hanno..."

The discomfort in his back trebled, but even worse was the awareness of new spasms, in a new place. He struggled to get control of himself, knowing that if he couldn’t do it, he’d soon be very embarrassed. Thankfully, Hanno got a grip on himself and with that influence no longer there, Daniel was able to push back the semi-hysterical laughter to the point where he could fend off the impending flow and speak more or less intelligibly. "I have... Hanno, I have to get up."

His attempt to push himself off Hanno was stalled by a soft voice in his ear and a firm hand on his shoulder which pulled him back against Hanno’s chest. He felt the moisture on Hanno’s cheek transfer to his own. "Wait." Hanno sniffed, and Daniel felt the man’s hard swallow against the side of his own face. "While you slept, I have thought about your words. Tell me... what is a phil... philosophy?"

 

* * *

 

Daniel really had to empty his bladder. Much sooner rather than later. But there was an forlorn-sounding edge to Hanno’s voice which could not be ignored. Daniel bent his knees up and slid his feet back as close to his body as possible. "A philosophy? Philosophies are the principles that form the underlying basis for our codes of behavior, our morals and ethics. Why do you ask?"

The sigh from behind him was huge. "Morals, and... what are these things?"

Ah. Need to back up here, Daniel. "Uhm, okay. Okay, what my people call morals and ethics are the things we use to guide our behavior; I guess, put simply, you could say they’re our rules about right and wrong. Philosophies are our basic beliefs about life, the ideas that we use to decide what our morals should be. Why?"

"Like our mandates?"

"Well, yes; I don’t know  _exactly_  what they are, but I’m guessing that your mandates are a set of rules about how your people behave?" With the answering nod, Hanno’s faint stubble scratched Daniel’s face. "Okay, so your mandates are the expression of your morals. And you decide on them because you have certain basic beliefs, philosophies. Hanno... it doesn’t really matter what the definition of a philosophy is; it’s just our word for things you already know. Why are you asking this?"

"You said I protected not you, but a philosophy."

Ahh. Right; that was mentioned, wasn’t it. "I meant... Okay, your people believe that the group is responsible for the individual. That’s your philosophy. When I said that... Look, in that situation, protecting me would not have done any good. We all would have died. So, you weren’t really protecting  _me_... you were following your ways which tell you that’s how you need to behave. Being true to your philosophy, regardless of the outcome, was on the top of your list."

He felt Hanno straighten up behind him. "And your people do not feel it is worthwhile to do so?"  The voice held a mixture of incredulity and disapproval.

Oh, damn. Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but there weren’t any words there. A small puff of air escaped, and he shook his head in mute confusion. Hanno seemed to sense his quandry. "I know nothing of your people, but I believe that  _you_ were untruthful; you do feel it is worthwhile to live honourably. You spoke of self-sacrifice. You believe that the one should give up a life for the many? And this caused you great difficulty, and caused you to try to convince me to behave dishonourably?"

"Yes." Uh, wait... "No. I mean, yes, I believe people should live honourable. And, no, I don’t believe that people should be  _expected_  to give up their lives for others... I believe that people should protect... I believe... Oh, hell. Okay, wait." Daniel paused to gather his thoughts. "I believe that we should protect one another; that life has great value, and that the loss of even one life is unacceptable. If I could prevent the loss of just one, never mind many lives, then whatever I needed to do, I’d have to do it."

"Then our philosophy is the same. The Byrsa believe as well that every life has great value."

"Yes."

Hanno was silent, but Daniel could hear loud protests nevertheless. It was his bladder, and the protestations were climbing all the way up his body into his throat, turning into urgent shouts as they went. "Hanno, I’m sorry. I really have to get up now."

"Does O’Neill have this philosophy?"

"Yes. Of course. Uhm, I really need to get up..."

"And your Jaffa friend? He believes this as well?"

"Teal’c? What? That all life has value? Well, I don’t know how he feels about the  _all_  part. But he wouldn’t have saved my people and turned against the Goa’uld if he didn’t believe -- Hanno, I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to get up." Daniel pushed himself forward away from the Byrsa and tried to place his hands on the ground either side of Hanno’s legs to push himself up. "I’m going to get up now."

Hanno absently pulled his legs out of Daniel’s way. "Yes. He saved us who sought to kill him. Then, we all believe the same thing?" Hanno shifted backward and placed a supporting hand on Daniel’s back as Daniel attempted to rise onto his knees. "Your O’Neill does not seem to believe as us. He would have protected Teal’c through force. And he left you here. He only values life according to his own wishes."

Daniel reached out for the tree for support, but it was too far away. His lower back burning, he fell onto all fours and started to crawl toward it. Hanno’s words echoed in his head, but Daniel couldn’t find the will nor the breath to deal with them right then. He managed a faint mumble. "No. Not true. We all use different strategies."

"What is a strategies?"

" A strategy, not a strategies. A thing... something you do... the way you try to achieve a goal." For some reason, it was clearly important to Hanno to come to an understanding of everyone’s behavior throughout all that had happened. How could he explain the differences between his own and Jack’s attitude and actions to Hanno? Daniel couldn’t even begin to try to explain moral dilemmas to Hanno, when in Hanno’s eyes Jack’s actions would speak louder than his words ever could. He wasn’t so certain he understood that himself. Jack left him here. For hours and hours. God.

Daniel shook his head to clear it; he was getting very dizzy. He was almost at the tree, up on his knees reaching out for it, just a finger’s breadth away, when Hanno’s hand closed over his own and a strong arm supported him underneath his own. "Where are you going?"

"Told you... have... to get up."

"Why?" Hanno supported him, but did nothing to help him to stand up.

Enough was enough. "I have to pee! For God’s sake -- help me up!"

"What is this, pee?"

Daniel twisted and rested his forehead on Hanno’s thigh. Oh God. This was worse than dealing with a two year old child. What? Why? What? Too tired, pained, and spaced to ask again for help to stand, he reached down and fumbled at his fly. The hell with it. He had the zipper halfway down when suddenly he was grasped under both arms and heaved to his feet. Hanno helped him to shuffle forward. Gratefully leaning against the tree, Daniel turned to look at the Byrsa and immediately raised a hand to forestall the question he saw forming on Hanno’s lips. "Yes. To pee is to, ah, pass water. So, if you don’t mind..." He swept his hand around in an arc a couple of times.

Hanno just stood there, watching the hand go through the motion. "What?"

This was getting monotonous. "What, what?" Hanno repeated the hand motion, raising his eyebrows. "Oh. Privacy, Hanno. My people, we do this in private."

"Oohh." Hanno turned his back to Daniel.

 

* * *

 

So just how full does a water balloon get until it springs a leak? Not having a wealth of childhood experience with that sort of thing, Daniel wasn’t entirely sure.

He looked up at the branches overhead, watching the leaves twist in the light breeze. He thought about his aching back and the pains which were beginning to radiate out into both buttocks as he stood there. He tried very hard not to think about the other pain which was growing by the minute. He examined the minute detail in the variegated colouring of the fungus growing on the tree trunk. Listened to the birds and played a game of trying to locate them in the trees from where their songs seemed to originate.

Every so often lightheadedness made him waver and the ground seemed to warp underneath his feet. The haziness was clearing up nicely, but as he waited Daniel thought about just how totally spaced out he’d felt. The blood on his pant leg. The incredible sting of the injection before he passed out...

The incredible stinging, the blood... Wait a minute...

"My father."

Huh - what? Daniel turned his head to look at Hanno. The Byrsa still had his back turned. "What?"

"I thought your people did not believe as us. I thought you were as the Jaffa who come so often and steal my people away. That you did not value life."

"You wanted to punish Teal’c. I know. It’s okay, Hanno. I understand." Daniel turned his attention back to his own problem. It must be because of his back - the general tension from muscle spasms. Or maybe it could be the morphine?

"No, you do not understand. I wanted to punish all of you. Your words in the Cor-ai were noble and passionate, but I would not hear you, because of what my father..." Hanno’s voice trailed off.

"Because Teal’c killed your father."

"No. Not because of that." Hanno moved suddenly, crossing over to Daniel. "You cannot do this. I have a method which can help." Hanno surveyed the source of Daniel’s difficulty with a critical eye.

Daniel felt the heat rise in his face. He turned his body slightly further toward the tree, wishing he could run off into the bushes and hide from that invasive stare. "Ahh, no. That’s... ookaay. I can, uhm, I can manage." He turned his head away as well, mumbling into his collar. "Give my left leg to turn on a tap right now."

"What is a tap?"

Oh God, not again. "It’s a... Oh, never mind."

"If you stand facing that way, you may become wet."

Oh crap. Just go away. Daniel looked down at the six inches or so between his body and the huge tree trunk. Yeah. Well, from the looks of his situation, he could stand right up against the damned thing and stay bone dry. Nothing was happening and the pain was getting worse. He locked his knees and shoved his shoulder firmly against the tree. Getting all tensed up wouldn’t help. Okay. Try a distraction. "What did you mean, about it not being because Teal’c killed your father?"

Hanno’s face was serious, his eyes wide and sad. "All my life, I have been angry about the death of my father. As a young child, I swore to make up for his death. I wanted to become a man who others could rely on to always protect them. To honour life. To live honourably."

"Well, you are. You do live honourably."

"No. I do not. I wished to kill your friend even in the face of your argument. In the forest, I would have sacrificed my men, my friends, to prove to you that I was honourable. That is not honour." Hanno voice suddenly changed. He spoke pleasantly. "When you spoke in the Cor-ai of your friend killing my father for the good of others, and when you sought to sacrifice yourself in the forest, it angered me. I understand why, now."

Daniel wasn’t too sure that blinding bladder spasms went well with hearing confessions. But Hanno was clearly working through something very important to him. "Just who are you really angry with, Hanno?"

"My father placed himself in your friend’s path. He raised an arm to your friend. He asked to die. To leave me."

Sacrifice. Self-sacrifice. "Hanno. I’m sorry. But your father, he knew there’s more than one way to honour life, to protect those you care for."

"I turned my anger at his choice onto you. I refused to hear your words. That is what you meant, is it not? That my father, your Jaffa friend, you, O’Neill... our actions are not the same, but we all believe the same thing." He appeared right at Daniel’s side and grasped him by the shoulders. "You need to hear your own words. You need to settle your differences with O’Neill." Daniel didn’t have much time for amazement, because the subject changed immediately. "I understand your word, strategy, now. And I have a strategy for this." Daniel tried to resist, his modesty overcoming his need, but Hanno simply pulled him away from the tree so that there was no choice but to use Hanno for support.

"We will face this way." Hanno adjusted Daniel’s position against him so they stood shoulder to shoulder, turned slightly toward one another. "You must relax, if the strategy is to work."

Daniel closed his eyes, insanely hoping, like a small child, that maybe in the resultant darkness he’d disappear from view himself. How totally embarrassing. He felt Hanno moving, making irregular small motions, and suddenly he heard the familiar noise. He opened his eyes to see that Hanno had turned on the tap.

With a sharp pain and a rush that brought a cry to his lips, his body responded. And so vehement was that response that when he heard the coincidental rustling of the bushes and the deep voice, and looked up to see his friend standing there, despite his utter humiliation there was no way he could interrupt the release.

"Come no closer." One eyebrow raised almost impossibly high, Teal’c looked over his shoulder, directing his voice back behind himself. "He is here, but approach is – unwise.

They are... crossing the streams."

 

* * *

 

Now that they had found him, Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to hug Daniel or tear a strip off him. He hung back and watched, not knowing quite what to say or do, as Carter used her knife to confirm the source of the dried blood on the thigh of Daniel's pants. The resultant long tear in the fabric revealed a sizeable bruise and equally sizeable and sore-looking puncture. Well, big enough, anyway, for having been caused by a large gauge injection needle. It looked as though the needle had been used as a drill bit – a waayy-off-kilter drill bit – and, it had struck liquid gold.

The inseparable mix of anger and concern intensified. Daniel could have died. He became aware that Carter and Daniel were speaking softly, calmly discussing what – in this backwater without any medical support – could have been a fatal injection, as if it were the weather. Hanno, sitting on the ground right next to Daniel – no;  _supporting_  Daniel – clutched Daniel's arm and looked both alarmed and sickened. Jack felt an irrational surge of satisfaction.

But then the topic of conversation changed. Something about pain in Daniel's back. So that's it. That's what he had done to him. Damn. It was his back... and it was starting to hurt more. Down his legs, again. Did he just say, 'again'? Jack closed his eye for a moment to block out the concern he saw on Carter's and Teal'c's faces. But he couldn't block out his own concern, nor his guilt. And he couldn't block out the unspoken accusation he'd seen in Hanno's eyes as the Byrsa had greeted them when they arrived; how Hanno had stood holding Daniel up beside him and pointedly remarked that it was well past time for Daniel to be going home.

Damn right, it was. Jack abruptly broke free from his doubt and stepped forward. "Okay, it's about time we got back to Earth. Teal'c, help Daniel. Carter, grab the..."

"Sir!" Carter stood up quickly, crossing over to him in two giant strides. "Daniel can't just pick up and go, just like that, Sir." She lowered her voice, glancing back to where Teal'c kneeled down in the spot she had just vacated. "It's his back."

"Yes, Captain. I heard that. He made it all the way here from the village, and he was standing up when we got here, not five minutes ago."

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean it's okay to do it again. We don't know what's wrong, Sir. And even if it's just a muscle strain, even with the injection Hanno gave him, he's in pain." She cast a look over her shoulder, back to Daniel. "And it looks like it's getting worse."

Jack reluctantly looked at Daniel, at the pale and haggard face which was turned toward Teal'c, and with a flash of disgust with himself realized that this was the first time he'd actually  _looked_  at any part of Daniel other than to glance at his leg. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Daniel's face, to watch as Daniel grimaced and tried – and failed – to answer a question from Teal'c without gasping. He forced himself to watch as Daniel shifted his position against Hanno, grabbing out for the other man's hand and squeezing his eyes closed as his body tightened in what was clearly intense pain. Jack felt his own hand convulse sympathetically, his grip tightening on the barrell of the M16 to the point where his fingers hurt. And he watched as Hanno responded to Daniel's need, allowing and returning the tight grip and providing his strength in action and soft words of encouragement until the spasm subsided.

Jack felt like an utter shit.

Daniel opened his eyes, bit his lower lip, and turned that face directly toward him – and Jack was done for. The possibility of maintaining any semblance of being the efficient, decisive soldier was washed away by the overwhelming knowledge that he had caused this, and that he simply didn't know what the hell to do to make it right. It sure wouldn't work to deny it, though; to pretend Daniel was okay – to make matters worse by asking him to hoof it all the back. Stupid. He was so stupid.

Jack averted his eyes, and as he turned away he thought he saw disappointment flash across Daniel's face. Daniel was disappointed in him. Hell, so the kid should be. Disappointment was far too mild a word for what he felt about himself.

"Okay, then... Uhm, we can..." His voice sounded pitiful to him, too quiet and indecisive. He turned away from Carter and blinked hard against the rising need to get away, to run away from what he'd done. "Okay. You and Teal'c stay here. I'll go back and get a medical team. We'll bring a stretcher through for him." His feet were moving before he'd even finished.

"Okay." Carter turned, stepped away. "I'll tell him."

"No." Jack took a step back and his hand had shot out and wrapped itself around her arm even before his conscious mind had anything to say about it. "I'll do it." Surprised at his own action, he let go of her and shook his head, more to himself than to her. "Sorry."

"That's okay. Actually, it's a good idea for you to talk to him before you go. Doctor Fraiser will probably want to know what to expect."

Yeah. Well, he already knew exactly what to tell her. To expect one banged-up, exhausted, quivering-with-pain, disillusioned Linguist-cum-Archaeologist-cum-all around undeserving victim, courtesy of one misguided, testosterone-laden, antagonistic Colonel-cum-Moron Jack O'Neill. Right. Anything else he should tell her?

His feet took him over there, his knees brought him down to the right height, his eyes caught the attention of his target... but his voice wouldn't cooperate. Jack looked at Daniel, feeling swallowed up by the questioning blue eyes. His head told him to simply ask Daniel what his symptoms were and beat it the hell out of there so they could get him home sooner rather than later. His heart screamed at him to say and do something entirely different.

His mouth and his body did neither.

 

* * *

 

"Jack?" Daniel's voice was far too husky, his pain and fatigue plain to hear. "We can go now?"

Jack's heart lurched, wanting to do nothing less than scoop Daniel up and head for the 'Gate. His head told him to run for it, but, alone. His head won out. "No, Daniel.  _We_  can't go anywhere quite yet. Teal'c and Carter are going to stay here with you. I'm going to go back, and bring through a medical team and a stretcher."

"What is this, stretcher?"

Daniel let out a huge snort and started to giggle. His hand found Jack's arm and squeezed as a spasm of pain accompanied the inexplicable laughter. The weakness of that grip was alarming. Jack closed his hand over Daniel's. "Jesus... take it easy here. What's so funny?" Daniel just shook his head as the smile faded into a wince and the giggles turned into soft grunts. Jack turned to Carter. "Maybe while I'm gone you should be sure to take it easy on the morphine? Looks like he's had enough."

"It was quite some time ago. Over three of the larger notae."

Jack turned to Hanno and raised his eyebrows. "It... huh? Not a, what?"

"Yes. Notae. The last medicine. Three of the largest notae are gone by." Hanno bent and looked at Daniel's digital watch. He grinned and pointed to it. "This is very interesting, the way you mark time. Daniel showed it to me." Hanno straightened up, the grin gone, and looked at Jack intently. "Daniel has shown me a lot of things. What is a stretcher?"

Daniel threw his arm across his face and groaned. Taking the tortured sound as his cue, Jack pulled away from him and stood up. He didn't have a clue what Hanno was babbling about, but it didn't matter. Daniel was suffering. "Okay, that's it. Hang in there, Daniel. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Do you not wish to await the return of my men, so that you may accompany Daniel home? They will be back soon with the lectica for him." Hanno looked up at him, the incomprehensible words and pure helpfulness on his face confusing the hell out of Jack. The Byrsa were right th... Jack turned to find that the two men who had escorted them to Daniel were nowhere to be seen.

Okay, so they were gone. They went to get a... a something, for Daniel. Was that good? "Lec-what-a?"

Daniel laughed outright, his eyes shining with humor. Okay, so maybe Daniel wasn't suffering so much as he'd thought? "It's Latin, Jack. It's a kind of bier."

Oh, beer. Now, that made perfect sense. Just what they needed right now. Sure. Uh-huh. Jack was becoming convinced the universe was out to get him. He felt his mouth open, but thankfully it closed of it's own accord before hard evidence of his ignorance escaped.

Carter didn't seem to have any problem with it. "Oh! Good. That will help a lot, Sir. Hanno, how soon do you think they'll get back here?"

"It should not be long. Certainly, it will be faster than O'Neill travelling to the Cirquacona and then back here again." Hanno looked at Daniel and patted his shoulder. He got a grateful-looking smile in return. Jack felt an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach, like worms crawling and burrowing and squirming around.

Carter gave the two men on the ground a relieved grin. Teal'c was nodding. Everyone seemed sooo happy. Jack's only recognizably coherent thought was never mind about Daniel; he himself could sure use a beer or two or three right about now.

"Uhm, Jack." Huh? Daniel?

"Uhh, Jack, it's,  _bier_."   Yeah, so?

"A small type of bier. B-i-e-r, Jack." Ooohh. Oh for crying out loud.

"Like, a litter." Yeah right, Daniel. I got it. Fine. I'm embarrassed enough as it is; you don't need to spell it ou... oh.

Jack straightened up as much as he could. Taller is always better. "I knew that." 

 

* * *

 

Time to face the music. Problem was that Jack hated the tune that was presently playing. It was hard rock at it's most extreme; harsh and discordant.  _You hurt him you hurthim youhurthim youhurthimyouhurthim_.  It grated on his ears, thrummed in his head, punished him with great pulsing beats of pressure in his chest. He hung back at the door to the infirmary, knowing he had to go in there but not knowing quite what he'd end up doing or saying once he did. He'd told Daniel he'd be there though, and so be there, he'd be. Mind you, Daniel had been so thoroughly swacked on the morphine Carter had given him that it was entirely possible the kid hadn't even known what had been said.

What had been said. What  _had been_ said? Not much; not nearly enough. He had wanted to say it, he really had. But it just hadn't worked out. At the start of the trip back to the Stargate, Daniel had been in no condition to hear anything except empty reassurances. The extent of Daniel's pain, upon the transfer to the litter and the jolts of being carried, had shocked Jack well beyond words anyway. They'd had to stop less than a third of the way into the trip for Carter to give the injection. It was the only humane thing to do. For both of them. Because if Jack had to watch the results of his actions being so acutely played out right in front of him for one minute longer, he'd likely have let loose and shot something. Even now, his hand hurt from it's too tight grip on the rifle. He could even still see the imprint from the machining on the grip, on his palm.

He glanced at his watch. An hour and a half. They'd been back for an hour and a half now, and he still hadn't kept his word. Guilt washed through him again. While intellectually he knew wasn't his fault that he still wasn't at Daniel's side – Fraiser had been adament; no one near gets anywhere near Daniel until she was finished with him – emotionally, everything was his fault. Everything. It was his fault that the team had argued, that Daniel had been hurt, had been left behind  _oh God, left behind_. It was his fault the Jaffa had stayed to hunt the Byrsa, and it would be all his fault if Daniel now faced a life of... No don't even think that don't go near there his fault his fault his fault...

"Colonel O'Neill."

Oh hell shit puke. "General." Jack didn't even need to look up to know where General Hammond had come from. Jack was blocking the doorway from the outside, so the man had to be coming out from,  _in there_.

"In my office." General Hammond brushed by him, moving out into the corridor. "Now."

Uh oh. That was the General's 'not only are you in deep shit now but you don't even get a shovel' tone of voice. It was going to be bad. But he'd known all along that the welcome home party Hammond would throw for him wouldn't be a happy one. The General had not exactly received his earlier admission, that he'd both verbally and literally shoved around a team member, with open arms. In fact the response had been openly frosty, with an unspoken but very much explicit promise of very bad things to come if Daniel Jackson wasn't retrieved with all parts in working order.

And now there wasn't just frosting on his welcome home cake, the whole damn thing was completely frozen. Which just might mean that he was in deeper shit than he'd even expected. Which just might mean... Jack's heart suffered it's own sudden chill. Oh God. Oh no. His throat felt like it was closing over, and he rushed to get the words out before he choked on them. "Sir... General, I promised Daniel..."

"Any promise you made to Dr. Jackson is not of concern." Hammond's expression was murderous, his eyes narrowed and mouth set in a thin line. "You  _will_  follow me to my office. Now."

Reaching out with invisible hands, he wrenched his heart from where it was crazy-glued onto the frame of the infirmary door, and reluctantly turned to follow Hammond. With a last look behind him to see just how much of himself still remained plastered and bleeding on the doorway, Jack caught his breath and hoped his punishment would be every bit as painful as the crime seemed to have been for Daniel.

 

* * *

 

Jack's long strides brought him up beside General Hammond, who immediately halted and turned to face him. "I said to  _follow_  me, Colonel."

Yikes. When he fell from grace, he really  _fell_. Jack couldn't help but ask one of the two questions which burned in his mind. "So, I'm still a Colonel?" The other question, the one which really needed to be asked more than anything else, was stubbornly stuck whirling around in his head along with the apology he hadn't been able to spit out earlier. Daniel, I'm sorry... oh general sir daniel daniel did you see daniel sir how is daniel...

Hammond didn't answer him, at least not in words. Jack hadn't thought it was at all possible for anyone to have a worse-than-murderous look on their face, but here in front of him was living proof that in some circumstances murderous intent might be an understatement. Okay, so if he was still a Colonel, it looked like that wasn't going to last much longer. No, oh no. Daniel... just how bad off would Daniel have to be, to warrant the start of a process which would lead to him being stripped of rank? Ohh, bad. Very bad. Legs that had been marching behind Hammond of their accord suddenly weakened and he drifted into the wall. Pretty badly off. Bad stuff. Bad. His chest constricted and all the air in his lungs came out in a quick involuntary puff, a breathy exhalation in the name of his shame. "Daniel."

"I'm very glad to see this, Colonel. It's about time." Jack looked up and through vision suddenly impaired by the sharp sting in his sinuses, saw Hammond staring at him. The General's expression had softened a bit. It didn't look quite so much like he wanted to put him in front of a firing squad. "We'll discuss Dr. Jackson's condition in my office. And your status." Hammond actually reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Let's go."

Jack clenched his jaw and fought against the stinging, blocking it's path from his nose to his eyes with the steely determination that he was feeling quite humiliated enough as it was. There was no way anyone would see him shed a tear... not for his fate, not even for Daniel. He was a  _man_  by God. A bullish, insensitive, opinionated, ignoramus of a man who had made the worst mistake of his career, but a man nevertheless. Hell, he'd lost a child and a wife, seen people violently die,  _killed_ people; he couldn't – wouldn't – be reduced to staggering around in a semi-blind haze because of the likes of one motor-mouthed, equally opinionated, impetuous, undisciplined, young frie...

Jack shoved his thumbs into the corners of his eyes and let his legs carry him behind Hammond on down the corridor. Around the corner. Excuse me past whoever the hell that was who bumped his shoulder on the way by. Up the stairs and through the briefing room. The chair at Hammond's desk was where his legs gave up their independence though, wobbling and asking him if they could – please – fold up now? No. No yet. Jack stood at ramrod attention as the General settled himself into his chair. Hammond stared at him, silent, his eyes both angry and expectant. Jack knew about the angry part, and he thought he understood the expectant part as well, but he still couldn't bring himself to force the question through his lips.

Hammond wasn't going to help him. Permission to sit was conspicuously absent, as was any indication that the General was going to volunteer any information about Daniel's condition. He sat there with his hands folded on top of his desk, eyes boring into Jack's face. Waiting. Obviously, wating for Jack to make the first move; to ask, to prove through words that he cared about what he'd done, and the man he'd done it to. Jack had a ridiculous urge to climb up on top of the desk and take all his clothes off. He figured that was as close to baring his soul as he would ever come. He just didn't  _have_  the words.

Hammond sighed. Loudly. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard, measured. "Colonel O'Neill, I fail to see how you people in SG1 expect me to swallow this load of horse manure."

What? "Sir? I don't understand..."

Hammond erupted. Rising from his seat, the general thumped a fist down on his desk. Papers scattered wildly, fluttering onto the floor, and Jack had to work to resist the normal human impulse to retrieve them. He didn't dare move. He had seen General Hammond thoroughly angry before, most notably at  _him_ , most recently and most painfully over the issue of what to do about Teal'c, but this was far worse. Hammond looked apoplectic.

"What  _I_  don't understand, Colonel O'Neill, is how you can take me for such a fool! What I don't understand is how suddenly no one knows anything about the actions you admitted to not so many hours ago! So, what's it going to be, O'Neill? The truth, and you accept the consequences, or right here and now I disband this ill-conceived team forever?"

Jack couldn't unglue his eyes from the spectacle before him. The veins in Hammond's neck stood out starkly as the man looked at him with a combination of outrage and utter disappointment. Jack realized what had happened here, and that understanding filled him with an odd combination of emotions which he struggled to recognize and keep a leash on. A flare of anger of his own at the implication that he may have coerced his team mates; confusion over why they would lie rapidly followed by perverse pride in their loyalty; and, strongest of all, tremendous relief which despite the turn of events and intensity of General Hammond's anger, brought a huge grin to his face. Daniel... the general must have spoken with Daniel, which meant Daniel was talk-to-able, which maybe, just maybe, could mean that it wasn't so bad...

He felt his grin fade somewhat. Okay, so maybe it was a stretch to think that just because they had spoken, that Daniel must be okay. But surely Hammond wouldn't have bothered Daniel with what really were comparitively non-urgent questions if there was anything really grave about his condition? The grin resurfaced. No, of course Hammond wouldn't do that. Above all else, General Hammond was a very compassionate man.

The big grin stopped Hammond in his tracks. The anger in his face turned into a look of open confusion mixed with disbelief. "There's nothing funny about this situation, Colonel."

"Oh, no Sir. Sorry. It's just... Well, you've spoken with Daniel."

"So? That amuses you?"

"No Sir, there's nothing amusing about that. It's a relief to hear he's alert enough for you to talk to, that's all." Jack finally found the words bubbling out of his mouth of their own accord. It was intensely gratifying to be finally be able to say it. "No matter what any of them told you, I pushed him, Sir. I whaled on him out of anger. I wish I could change it, but I can't. Daniel got hurt and he got left behind, and it's all my fault. And, I'm really so sorry." One down, Daniel to go. "I need to talk to him. How is he, Sir?"

General Hammond's bluster had definitely faded to a mere ghost of itself. Jack allowed his posture to relax. It was pretty clear, now, from the look in Hammond's eyes, that he knew. He knew all along that Jack hadn't coached his team; that his earlier confession stood. Hammond must just be feeling frustrated again – an all too common occurance where SG1 was concerned – that's all. Good. So, done here now. "Permission to go see Daniel, Sir."

"I'm not finished with you, Colonel. No, that's not even near the truth." It was all too clear that Jack had miscalculated. That 'buried in shit' tone was back. "The truth is that I haven't even started yet. Sit down."

He sat.

Hammond walked out from behind the desk and circled around behind him. Two firm hands pressed down onto his shoulders from behind, and with that unheard of action, Jack knew that General Hammond considered this particular load of shit to be very, very serious indeed. "I know you wouldn't ask your team to lie for you, Colonel. But nevertheless, that's exactly what they have done. Captain Carter and Teal'c both say their attention was directed elsewhere and they did not witness any interaction whatsoever between yourself and Dr. Jackson prior to Dr. Jackson mysteriously ending up on the ground." The hands pressed down even more firmly, as if Hammond was trying to impart advice that Jack shouldn't even think about moving, not one inch. "And I'm not impressed by that kind of loyalty. It  _will_  be dealt with.  _You_  will deal with it."

"And as for Dr. Jackson, he claims he tripped and fell as he stepped aside for you to dial home. He claims he told you he was all right, and that he would follow you through." Hammond curled his fingers against Jack's shoulders, pressing his fingertips into the sensitive muscles just under his collarbones. "Therefore there is no corroboration of your admission, and no complaint against you. But don't think for a single flat out minute that there's no punishment, Colonel."

The weight of the hands on his shoulders, the increasing press of the fingers now digging into his muscles, became acutely uncomfortable. "Dr. Jackson further  _claims_  that he had no knowledge that he was in any way injured prior to encouraging you to go through the Stargate with Teal'c..."

The voice softened abruptly. "... despite having fractured two vertebrae in his back."

 

* * *

 

No fist or weapon of any kind, not even a battering ram, would have measured up against the impact on Jack's gut from those words. He jerked against the firm hold on his shoulders as his stomach abruptly seized and tried to escape his body through his nostrils. He broke Daniel's back. He goddamned  _broke_  his back! Jack heaved up and out from under Hammond's grip and stood, whirling around to face the older man, a million vile epithets aimed at himself poised on the tip of his tongue. The only thing which came out of his open mouth was an almost incomprehensible strangled wheeze. "No."

"Yes." Hammond circled him once more, casually returning to his seat. Jack followed his progress, turning more slowly this time. He felt as if another whirl-around would send him crashing to the ground. Hammond sat down and smiled at him, a grim, almost predatory, smile. "Permission granted."

His mind went numb, unable to coherently form any rational thought or intent. His stomach churned. He was aware of his mouth fishing open and closed, and it seemed as though the skin on his cheeks was sagging down to his chest. But it wasn't his skin... it was something that wasn't his; it was clay, putty, dripping, melting off him. And there was that damnable stinging again.

Hammond looked at him with an incongruously pleasant expression on his face. "You can go, Colonel. You said you needed to speak with Dr. Jackson? Permission granted." An almost imperious wave of one hand penetrated Jack's sense of disconnection. His eyes followed the hand through the air as the sick feeling in his gut intensified. "In fact, Colonel, you are  _ordered_  to report to the infirmary regarding Dr. Jackson. Get out of my office. Now."

Now. Right. Get out now. That suited Jack just fine. It was where he was supposed to get out  _to_  that was the problem. Yes, he had wanted to go see Daniel. Yes, he had been so relieved, almost proud, to have found the words to acknowledge his regret to Hammond, and he'd been so eager to go and repeat that stunning performance with the person it counted for the most. But that was before he was fully aware of the true magnitude of his sin – and of the injustice of the consequences. Because of Daniel, who without a doubt had, somehow, at some point along the way proposed his support of Jack and, oh, a whole heck of a lot more than just  _probably_  had influenced Teal'c and Carter, he was getting off more or less scott free. And Daniel himself... oh shit. How could Daniel possibly not blame him? It was inconceivable. How could he face the kid now?

It must have been when Carter gave him that injection. Jack had figured there was far too much conversation going on. He had been desperate for Carter to just shoot him up and end the agony for the both of them, but Carter and Daniel had settled into what seemed to be an interminably long, if erratic, discussion that had set his nerves on edge and culminated in him just yelling at her to can the blabber and get on with it. Of course, he'd been  _far_  too much of a coward to be hiking alongside at anywhere near hearing distance, so he'd missed the actual content of that conversation.

Damn. He wondered if Daniel had lied for him before or after getting the news about his back.

Walking with his eyes to the ground, he knew when he was there because of the smell and the sounds. Disinfectant, tinged with a light but unmistakable odour of bleach. Quiet humming and beeping noises, and the rustle and flurry of efficient activity. He took a deep breath and plunged into the breach... only to walk right into the second-most-not-wanted-to-see-person; the one on the list right after Daniel himself. The one who would surely know by now who was responsible for Daniel's injury, and who no doubt would make sure he knew every gory detail of exactly what it was he had done to his friend.

"Colonel! Great. I'm glad you're here. I know I banned you earlier, but we're all done with the diagnostics now and he's had something for the pain, so it would be an good idea to..." Dr. Fraiser was smiling at him. Smiling. Doesn't she care?

He cut her off. "Hammond said he has fractured vertebrae." The words ripped out of him in a rush, and he didn't even try to mask the harsh edge in his voice.

She looked vaguely surprised at the interruption, but her smile stayed plastered in place. "Oh good. I'm glad he explained it to you. That saves me the time. He had an injection not long ago, so you should see him soon, before he drops off to sleep." She looked over to the far wall, toward the half-drawn curtains around Bed Four. Her smile broadened. "And knowing Dr. Jackson's level of tolerance for medication, that should be, ohhh, at least ten minutes ago. But you can give it a try anyway."

He didn't move. Why was she smiling? "You said, fractured, right?"

"Yes. He has a broken coccyx – his tailbone – and, in addition to that there's two fractured vertebral bodies in the lumbar spine. At the levels of L4 and L5." She peered at him, confusion worrying at the edges of her smile. "You don't seem very pleased... you did say General Hammond told you?"

The confusion in her eyes was but a grain of sand to the Mount Everest of bewilderment he was feeling. Yup. The universe was out to get him. Where the hell was that beer?

 

* * *

 

Speechless, he just stared at her, relying on his eyes to convey the mix of feeling he couldn't begin to even identify. It must have comne across loud and clear, because Dr. Fraiser suddenly frowned and grabbed his upper arm. "You don't look very well, Jack. Come over here and sit down." She led him to her office and plunked him down in a chair. "Now, what did he... no, I'm guessing it's what he didn't tell you that's more important." Perching on the edge of her desk, she smiled again. "I think I know what's going on here."

Well, she was one up on him, then. Because he didn't have a clue. "Okay. So tell me." The edge in his voice which had been simply harsh before now bordered on open anguish. "Tell me why it's good news that I broke Daniel's back." Upon actually saying aloud precisely what he'd done, his remorse sprang to his eyes in a watery flood which made Fraiser blur at the edges. A small inner voice taunted him – how very  _manly_. He found he really didn't care anymore; he'd been so wrong out in the corridor before. He  _could_  be be reduced to staggering around in a semi-blind haze because of the likes of one motor-mouthed, equally opinionated, impetuous, undisciplined, young  _friend_.

Fraiser reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. The sympathetic look on her face made him cringe. He truly was pathetic. "It's okay, Jack. It's not like it sounds. I won't go so far as to say everything is just fine, because it isn't, but I think General Hammond is messing with your head a bit here." She slid off the desk, removing her hand from his shoulder and reaching for an oversize manila envelope. "Not that you don't deserve it, mind you."

Jack rubbed a hand across his forehead. Why was everybody talking in riddles? First it was Hanno, going on about biers or beers and note-a-things... notae, oh shit. Notae, as in notations, lines, symbols, as in numbers… as in hours, over three hours. What an idiot he was. Oh, and now what an idiot for sure. Yeah his head was messed up all right, but it was that way long before Hammond got to it. Why the hell was he sitting here thinking about Latin right now?

Fraiser was watching him intently. "Oh My. We are suffering, aren't we?" She opened the envelope and pulled out what looked like x-rays. "We did standard x-rays plus an MRI. Come on out here and I 'll show you." She moved out of the office and over to the bank of viewers on the wall, shoving a couple of the sheets into the clips on the viewers.

"Look, see here? And here? These lines? Those are the fractures." Looking over her shoulder, Jack could see them; faint white lines in two muddy vaguely cylindrical shaped surfaces, one vertically above the other. Fraiser traced the outline of one of the surfaces with one finger, helping him to differentiate it from the other various vague shapes which abutted and overlapped it.

"This is the vertebral body. The large round bone which is in front of the spinal cord. See these shapes here? Look, you can see them better from this view over here." She pointed to a second film, where he could readily identify the wings flaring out to both sides of a central column. "Those are the transverse processes. They're part of the set of bones that are sometimes collectively referred to as the arch; they curve around the spinal canal at the back. Fortunately, they are intact."

"Okay, I see that. And I see those lines there. So I broke his back, right?" It was a little easier to say this time. God, that was more than just a little alarming. He sure hoped he'd never get used to the idea.

Fraiser actually laughed. "No. Okay, well, technically, yes. They are fractures, so I guess you could say the vertebral bodies are broken. But Colonel, they're what's called compression fractures." Her eyes smiled along with her mouth. "This is a good thing, Jack, better than most of the alternatives – short of it just being a muscle strain, which I knew right away it couldn't be the minute you got him back here." Her smile faded, and was replaced with a somber look. "With all the sciatic symptoms and high degree of local muscle spasm I was worried about the possibility of a crush injury or displaced fracture pressing on the nerve roots - or similar pressure from a significantly herniated or avulsed disc."

"A slipped disc? That would be... lots more bad than, this?" Jack felt his face screw up in confusion. He knew about slipped discs, but for the life of him he was having trouble understanding why having _broken_  bones was preferable.

"Right. Either of those could result in permanent nerve damage and require surgical intevention. There would have been a high probability that he'd be left with persistent chronic low back problems, if not outright neurological deficits. With this, though, there's no nerve involvement." She tapped her finger lightly against the image showing the fracture lines. "Compression fractures are caused by, well, compression. He fell onto his rear end?' Jack nodded. "Okay, so in addition to breaking his tailbone with the direct impact, what happened was that the vertebrae compressed, but with great force, and here, along the anterior outer portion where the bulk of the stress was, the bones cracked, more or less vertically. At the fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae." She reached out and gently touched him, on the arch of his lower back just below the waistband of his pants. "Right about here."

Jack closed his eyes and leaned his forhead against a viewer. Messing with him. Hammond had been messing with him. Oh, he hadn't gone unpunished, all right. He laughed softly, both at the old man's mastery and with relief. "Thank you. Thank you so much." But then he raised his head, remembering Daniel's pain. "Hang on. If there's no spinal cord damage, why do his legs hurt?"

"Well, that's due to a combination of things. The bones that form the arch curve around the nerve roots and are the attachment point for the muscles. He's certainly suffered severe muscle strain, and there's a lot of muscle spasm and associated generalized inflammation. The sciatic nerve goes through those areas and generally, it's very prone to injury. In Daniel's case, the impact was pretty strong and while the nerve isn't actually impinged upon, there's inflammation there. I've prescribed some strong muscle relaxants and anti-inflammatory medications to deal with that."

She looked at him accusingly. "You realize, of course, that hours of plunging around in forests hasn't helped any. Those  _aren't_  just hairline fractures; they're fairly significant, and it's lucky they stayed as stable as they have. He's going to be on complete bedrest for a while, laying flat, and following that he'll only be allowed up to the washroom. After a few weeks, we can begin to slowly increase his level of activity. And he'll need physiotherapy for those muscles."

Jack winced. Weeks. Weeks upon weeks. Daniel was going to freak when he realized what that would mean for getting on with his work on the chicken-scratches from Ernest's world – if he hadn't already. Daniel's work. Maybe there was one way he could repent. He could set himself up as Daniel's personal mobile library. Right. Pleased at the thought that there was some way he could help, he smiled.

"You're starting to look too complacent, Colonel. You know what I think, I think we need to put you on the bedpan brigade."

Well wouldn't that be fun. Immediately Jack felt the stab of guilt – he had a choice in the matter, Daniel didn't. All joking aside, it wasn't going to be any fun for Daniel. "I think I've hurt Daniel quite enough, Doc. But I'll happily launder the bed sheets and smooth his pillows." Yeah. If he'll allow it. "Seriously, no lasting effects? He'll be okay?"

"Seriously, I  _was_  serious about the bedpans." The mischevious grin disappeared. "Okay. I won't kid you, with all that muscle spasm and sciatica it's going to be a fair while until he's more comfortable, and knowing him, those oral meds are going to wreake havoc on his stomach. But the fractures aren't displaced and while they are significant, they don't go through and through. So, no – barring any catastrophes, no lasting effects provided we take good care of him from now on. No twisting or reaching for things, no weight bearing. Hey, there's a thought. You can help with getting food into him and log-rolling him over." She made a wry face and shuddered slightly. "And catering to weeks of irascible complaints. Such a treat for us all."

She pulled the film off the viewers and as she was leaving gave a jerk of her head, toward the curtained off bed. "He'll be uncomfortable and bored to death, but he should recover completely, Jack. Give him six to eight weeks or so, and he'll have a virgin lumbar spine again. If you want him to even know you're here, better do it soon."

 

* * *

 

Jack winced at seeing the contents of the blue kidney basin. He was about to call the nurse, when he realized that his penance had to start somewhere. It may as well be with this. Being as quiet as possible, he reached out and picked it up. Gingerly, trying to keep his fingertips as far away as possible from dipping over the edge and into the sloshing liquid without risking dropping the thing, he carried it around the curtain and over to the large sink. He was just about to dump it when a warning rang out.

"No! Colonel, not in there." The nurse hurried over. "That's the clean sink. If you dump it there we'll have to spend time cleaning it when we could be reading the tabloids." She pinched his sleeve and redirected him. "Over there. That's the dirty hopper. You dump it in the sink and then push the large button to flush it down. Be sure to wash your hands well." Conspicuously not offering to do the chore for him, she gave him a satisfied nod and left, settling down in a chair at the small counter along the far wall and picking up what looked to be a magazine.

Jack dumped out the contents of the basin, shivering and feeling a gag working it's way up his throat as the top layer of liquid gave way to the underlying oh-gross-what-did-that-stuff-used-to-be-anyway? It emptied from the basin out into the hopper with a sudden wrist-tipping, nauseating splosh. A good deed. Penance. Helping Daniel; he was helping Daniel. Right. He took a slight detour on the way back, making a wide arc to sidle by the far counter and surreptitiously read the name tag on the uniform of the skinny nurse who was, indeed, reading a trashy tabloid. Clark. He'd remember that.

Rounding the curtain, he stopped before approaching the bed. Daniel was asleep, laying on his side thoroughly propped and immobilized by pillows front and back. The bed itself was raised high off the floor, almost to the height of his own waist. The cable from the cardiac monitor looped down across the pillow under Daniel's head to his shoulder, bifurcating into five separate finer strands just before it disappeared under hospital gown. IV tubing snaked down across the pillow his arm was resting on and was partially snagged under the edge of it. Jack carefully placed the basin back where he'd found it, on the bed next to the pillow under Daniel's head, and leaned on the raised hard plastic siderails, reaching over to release the IV line.

That done, he looked around for some other way he could help Daniel. Who was asleep. Who didn't even know he was the recipient of such dubious and selfish assistance. Just who was he trying to help here, anyway? Jack shook his head at himself. He'd have to do better than this. A lot better. As soon as Daniel was awake, he'd do just that. He would say he was sorry, and he wouldn't even dare think about forgiveness. He would promise,  _promise_ , never ever to bully or disregard Daniel again. He'd promise to stop and listen to him, to never again make rude remarks at the kid's expense – oh all right; to  _try_  to not make rude remarks – and to quit rolling his eyes when whatever Daniel said or did wasn't exactly what he himself would have done.

There. The call button. The cable was hanging over the oxygen outlet, high on the wall. How in the hell did they expect Daniel to be able to reach it way up there? The guy wasn't even allowed to roll over by himself. What if he needed something and no one was around to hear him? Fine, okay, it wasn't exactly a huge place... but from the looks of Nurse Clark, a call button within reach was probably going to be a necessity. Jack leaned over the bedrail and reached to grab the cable, but there was no way he would reach it like that. As gently as possible, he released the catch on the rail and lowered it. He was fumbling for the call cord, his fingers just an inch way as he draped himself across the head of the bed, when he heard the scratchy voice.

"Uh, there's a... a something, in my face."

Jack threw himself back. Oh, so helpful. He'd woken him up; practically stuck his belt right in Daniel's eye, for that matter. "Daniel! Geez, sorry. I was trying to get the call button for you."

Daniel peered up at him, squinting slightly. He blinked a few times and closed his eyes, burrowing his face deeper into the pillow. "I was asleep, Jack. I didn't need it." His speech was slow and slurred. "Did Sam and Teal'c leave?"

Sam and Teal'c? Were they here? Jack looked around the room and then felt stupid for doing so. If they were here, he'd have walked right into them. "Ah, they're not here. They were here earlier?"

"Yeah. Right after General Hammond left. I guess I fell asleep on them." Daniel shifted his shoulders slightly and his hand slowly moved up the pillows toward the head of the bed. "Makepeace was here too. He said SG3 went back to Cartago with you."

Did the whole of the SGC beat him here? And Makepeace, of all people? "Yeah? What else did he say?"

"Ah... I don't remember much, actually. Said something about... about, something being the usual... and uhm... a real treat, working with me." As his hand continued it's migration toward his head, Daniel's fingers came into contact with the damp basin. He suddenly pulled his hand back, his eyes snapping open as he let out a low exclamation of disgust. "Ahrgh... yuck."

The impulse to hunt down Makepeace like the mangy cur the man was warred with the knowledge that staying with Daniel right now was important. Which felt most important was a toss-up, but Jack figured he was here now, and Makepeace couldn't get far. "It's okay, Daniel. I emptied it."

Daniel's eyes widened and he raised his head off the pillow slightly. Surprise, skepticism, and what Jack thought was probably embarrassment filled his face. " _You_  emptied it?"

"Happy to help." Only from the look Daniel was giving him, Jack suspected telling Daniel that he'd cleaned up after him was less than helpful. The surprise and skepticism were buried under a red flush that rose to cover Daniel's cheeks, and he dropped his head into the pillow with a low groan.

Jack thought that Daniel being embarrassed about being sick, under the circumstances, was silly; just plain silly. "Daniel. You're not well. It's a normal body-thing. It's understandable."

Daniel's voice was muffled by the pillow. "I don't remember you being so understanding the last time I puked. You ditched me."

The words were right there – okay well, yeah I did but it wasn't my fault you puked  _that_  time, I'm sorry so sorry. Do it... say it. Come on, here's your opening. Do it. Do it now.

Or... Not.

"Well, it was a new vehicle. Didn't want to lose that new car smell. Can I get you anything? Some of your books?" There was no response. "Danny?"

"Tired. Going back to sleep."

"Well, there must be something you..."

Daniel fractionally raised his head and looked at Jack before closing his eyes again and seeking the protection of the pillow. "Jack. Just take it somewhere else, okay."

Jack looked at Daniel's profile – at eyes encircled by dark shadows shut a little too firmly and a mouth closed in an uncharacteristically tight line, his head buried so deeply into the pillow that it looked as though he was trying to burrow into the mattress underneath. So it wasn't going to be okay after all. Daniel didn't want him to be there; didn't want to hear what he'd so painstakingly dredged up from the deepest recesses of his sorry little soul. It wasn't that Daniel was simply embarrassed about throwing up, he wasn't simply tired... Daniel blamed him.

His legs decided on his course of action before his mind could and Jack found himself walking away, disappointment and frustration turning his gut into a block of concrete. Daniel wasn't interested in his help. Well, fine, but that didn't relieve him of the obligation. Okay, then. He'd take it somewhere else, all right. Makepeace. Where the hell was Makepeace.

 

* * *

 

This was torture. Worse than anything any ghouly-Goa'uld could ever come up with. Daniel reached out across the pillow in front of him, willing his arm to stretch over the distance. When he'd reached as far as possible, he rolled his shoulder forward, trying in vain to extend just that little bit further. As his upper body twisted slightly with the motion, the steady burning in the small of his back turned into white hot fire, lancing into his right flank and down into his hip. Hissing quietly, he pulled his arm back to rest on his side. More torture.

Oh, God. He'd blown his back again with that little move. The fresh pain circled up and around to press over his ribs, swept along his hip and down into his thigh. Was it worth it? Well, yes, actually, if he could just get a hold of the damn thing. He could see it there, it's end sticking out past the edge of the overbed table it sat on, just barely illuminated in the faint glow which reached across the infirmary from the night light on the nurses' counter. It sat there mocking him, right where Makepeace had put it at the start of one long, very uncomfortable, dreadful night which thankfully was all but over.

He craned his head around to look at the wall to the left of the head of the bed. Where the other  _it_  was. Hanging over the oxygen outlet high in the wall above him, well out of reach – the call bell. He considered calling out loud for the nurse – after all, Nurse Clark was long gone so it was probably safe – but he wasn't the only patient in here tonight, and he didn't want to wake anyone.

Hell. If only he'd known he'd want the damn thing when the nurse had come earlier to hang the new IV bag. She'd asked if he needed anything, but he'd just woken up then and really hadn't even been aware of quite where he was, never mind what his needs were. Torture. This was the worst sort of torture, worse than... No, wait. There was something worse. That thing that had happened to him earlier, around midnight, just before – ugh,  _before_  – Nurse Clark went off duty... that was worse. Waaay worse. Daniel heard the unbidden moan of humiliation and pain that escaped him, sounding huge in the quiet of the infirmary. Okay, stop it. Try not to think about it. Don't disturb anyone. He buried his head into the pillow, resigning himself to the fact that this was just the first day of what was likely to be several interminably long weeks of frustration and helplessness.

"Dr. Jackson?" The quiet voice and gentle hand on his shoulder were both a welcome relief and a source of embarrassment. "Are you all right? You want something to ease the pain?"

Yeah. Ease the pain. Exactly. I want  _that_ ; that over there... Daniel had the urge to shout 'Chocolate! Give me chocolate!' at the top of his lungs. He settled for a weak gesture of his hand toward the overbed table.

The nurse chuckled under her breath and moved the table right up close to the bed. He could hear her smile in her whisper. "Actually, I was suggesting an injection. I heard that groan from all the way across the other side of the room."

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm okay." Daniel peered at her through the dark. "Who am I talking to?"

"My name is Ellen. Are you sure? You don't look okay..." Nurse Ellen swung the overbed light down low, aiming it at the floor before switching it on. She bent over him, and he could make out not only her fine features but the concern in her eyes. "Is it still stinging? We could try changing the catheter; that might help." She reached over and picked up Makepeace's gift, and started to unwrap the huge bar at one end.

Daniel shuddered. No way. Never again was anyone going to do that to him while he was awake to prevent it. He'd sooner drown, or explode. Mind you, a big part of the problem was probably who had been the one to do it. Even Hanno could have done it better... "No, no no. It's fine. Just fine. I, ah, I tried to reach over and, uhm..."

"And your back told you to knock it off, right?" She grinned at him, and then her face settled back into that look of compassionate concern. "I know it's hard to accept that you can't do these things for yourself, but it's really important that you don't twist your back, okay? Don't turn over by yourself, don't try to sit up, and if you need anything call us. Just use the..." Her hands drifted over the head of the bed, and a puzzled look came over her face. Looking up she saw the cord and snagged it down. "Oh, Dr. Jackson! I am so sorry."

"I'm Daniel."

She affixed the call bell to his pillow with the small alligator clip on it's cord and with a quick movement of her hands, just before leaving him, she presented him with the priceless object of his efforts. A double-sized square of almost black, full, rich, bitter-sweet dark chocolate. Nurse Ellen was An Angel. And as for his surprising benefactor, Makepeace... well, he wasn't any angel and Daniel couldn't figure out why the man had come back with the gigantic bar of chocolate in the first place, but he sure wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was the only even remotely decent thing to have happened to him in well over thirty-six hours, and he was damn well going to enjoy it.

A soft voice came from behind him, and he raised his head off the pillow to take a look, as he heard and felt the linen on top of him move aside. "Enjoy it while you can, Dr. Daniel." There was a sharp jab in his rear and then the sting as she injected the pain killer. "I'll be back with help in about fifteen minutes, to turn you. It's getting on to six o'clock; lights-on is at seven. Dr. Fraiser's going to be in to poke and prod at you, and I want to be sure you're cleaned up and comfortable." The light was flicked off and he was alone.

Daniel stuffed the square of chocolate into his mouth and pulled the bar off the table. Great. The minute he finds some much needed solace, she comes back and sticks him with nite-nite juice and threatens him. Talk about giving with one hand and taking away with the other. The strong taste of the rich chocolate, the feel of it softening and melting on his tongue and against the roof of his mouth, reached past his dismay and he closed his eyes to savour the moment. Pliant, yielding... thick... flowing... wrapping around his tongue like a velvet blanket...

Light footsteps and a rustle of clothing barely loud enough to be heard approached and came to a halt directly in front of him. No! She said fifteen minutes! It couldn't be fifteen minutes yet. Daniel frowned and squeezed his eyes closed more tightly. He gripped the bar under the sheets, determined that she couldn't have it back. Nurse Ellen-the-Angel was going to have to go away and wait the promised amount of time. He wasn't finished.

 

* * *

 

"Oh shit." A dull thud accompanied the muffled exclamation. Something heavy landed on the table top. That wasn't the Angel, unless her voice had changed radically in the last few minutes. There was a sliding noise and the wheels of the table squeaked. "Oh for crying... Hell's bells." There was the sound of something hitting the floor. "Dammit!" Definitely not Nurse Angel Ellen. In fact, Daniel knew exactly who the whispered curses came from.

What was Jack doing here at six in the morning? Daniel wasn't altogether sure he even wanted to know. He vaguely remembered Jack being there the previous afternoon, after he'd told  _the lie_ , but had no clear recollection of what went on during the visit. Just that he'd been in pain, despite being swacked on medication. Jack was angry with him, obviously to the point of not caring, and maybe even to the point of wanting him off of SG1 – why else not come back to Cartago for him for so long? His own feelings of disappointment, discontent, and a nebulous sense of injustice simmered below the surface, so far – he hoped – held in check, but Daniel wasn't altogether certain that he could control them; that he wouldn't make matters worse if he had to look Jack in the eye. He may already have done so, for all he knew.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes, to see... nobody. But the bedside table was now angled crookedly and piled high with something shapeless which he couldn't quite identify in the dim light. It was Jack – he was certain he'd heard him, but there wasn't anyone there.

"Jack?"

A sharp exhalation and sudden movement from down near the floor startled him. Jack abruptly popped up, apparently to his knees, hitting his head on the corner of the overbed table and Daniel jerked backward in surprise. The spasm in his back flared. Gritting his teeth as he grabbed the bedrail and shifted back into alignment, Daniel stared at the shadowed face now just barely visible above the edge of the bed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing." The head disappeared for a second, and then popped into view once more. "Nothing. Just dropped something. Sorry. Just ignore me." Jack stood up, and placed something on the table. "Go on back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep."

"You looked asleep."

"Well, I wasn't."

"Well, I thought you were."

Danel sighed and waved his hand at the table. "What is that stuff?" He raised his head slightly, and the room did a lazy but nauseating circle. Daniel could feel the injection nibbling at the edges of his alertness, already starting to loosen his hold on both his composure and wakefulness. This was probably not a good time for Jack to be here.

"That stuff? I just thought... I figured you might need something to do today, being stuck in bed."

Daniel waited, but nothing else was volunteered. Jack just stood there, silent and unmoving in the dark. Irritation rose, and he struggled to push it aside. What the hell was he doing bringing whatever all this crap was, in the dark, at six in the morning? Oh, wait. The answer was obvious. Jack was on an errand of pity, acting out of a sense of military responsibility and possibly even some guilt, pure and simple. Jack was angry with him, didn't trust him, and clearly didn't want to be around him. So what better time to get the required act of absolution out of the way than before the world woke up?

"Oh. Okay. Well, thank you." Stuff to do. Well thanks, Jack. If that's the best you can do. He gripped the bar of chocolate under the covers, feeling it softening under his fingers, and remembered that he'd only been given fifteen minutes before torture began anew. How much of that was left now?

"Ah, okay. No problem." The dark figure began to sidle away from the bed. "Well, okay. So, I guess I'll let you get some..."

"Oh, hello." That  _was_  Nurse Angel. "Little early to be visiting, isn't it?"

"I was just leaving." Jack moved further away, but the figure of Nurse Ellen came into view immediately behind him, and Daniel saw him hesitate. "You the night nurse?"

She came around in front of Jack and reached down, flicking on the lamp which was still focused on the floor. The light bounced up and cast eerie shadows from below. The shapeless lump on the table took form, becoming a stack of books, pads of paper, and a largish round tin with several long objects precariously balanced on top of the pile. "Hey..." Nurse Ellen picked up one of the long triangular shaped objects. "Look, Dr. Daniel. It's Toblerone." She read the label, holding it at an angle so Daniel could see what it was. " Dark chocolate, hazelnut." He couldn't see her face clearly, but he knew she was grinning.

Wow. Toblerone. Jack brought him Toblerone bars. Did that mean...? No. Forget it; no deep thinking, not right now. He was just about out of time. Pulling the large Hershey bar out from under the covers, he held it out to her. "Trade you." He managed a superficial grin back at her as she hugged the Toblerone to her chest in mock horror at the suggestion that she give it up. The grin faded when she took the one he held and put both bars back on the table.

"Sorry, but we have to get you organized now." Jack reached out and picked up the Hershey bar, a puzzled look on his face. She took it away from him. "Actually, Colonel, I could use your help."

Dread struck deep in the pit of Daniel's stomach. Jack's help. No... not with him...

"Daniel, why are you sleeping with chocolate?" Jack sounded amused.

Daniel ducked his head into the pillow, hoping she wasn't suggesting what he thought she was. "I told you. I wasn't asleep." He heard the slight slur in his own words, and thought that it wouldn't be much longer before he was sleeping, whether he intended to or not.

"Where'd it come from?"

What? Why should you care? "Makepeace brought it last night." Daniel heard a muffled noise, and looked up to see Jack rocking on his heels, a smug expression on his face. He didn't have time to try to puzzle out why, though, as his apparently soon-to-be-demoted Angel took Jack by the upper arm and led him toward the bed, beginning a good-natured monologue.

"Actually, he hasn't had a very good night. Monica is off on a break, and seeing as you're here now, Colonel, you can help me do this. On top of the back injury, there was a bit of a retention problem and the nurse on duty, Clark, had a lot of trouble inserting the catheter. Although he won't admit it, I expect he's still sore from all that fuss." Jack's head swiveled sharply in his direction, and Daniel desperately wanted to disappear into the mattress. Nurse Ellen continued her helpful chatter. "I gave him a shot of morphine about twenty minutes ago. God, I feel so bad about that call bell. Okay, if you just stand on that side of the bed, I'll tell you how we go about this. We'll need to transfer the collection bag to your side first..."

Oh, no, no, no, no. Daniel reached out and gripped the siderail with both hands. "No. Uhm, look, we can wait for... Jack, you don't need to do this. I'm okay. I'm really happy facing this way..." He felt his face reddening. Apparently, though, it was to no avail. As helpful and well-meaning Nurse Ellen might be, clearly she was no giant in the empathy department. She leaned forward over him, and Daniel felt the covers whisked off and the cool air against his exposed backside in one fell swoop. Oh, please.

"Wait." The voice from behind him was so soft as to be barely audible. Linen shifted, and the breeze was shut out. "Look, this can wait. I'd appreciate a few minutes alone with Daniel."

Daniel found himself the object of intense scrutiny. Nurse Ellen leaned close, her concerned eyes capturing his own. Her voice was equally as soft as Jack's. "Ooh. I'm so sorry. I should have asked you first. Daniel, I'm sorry." Okay... so an slight amendment might be necessary; maybe she did have just one or two empathetic bones in her body. "I'm sorry, Colonel. Daniel, Monica and I wil come back in about a half-hour, okay?"

She reached down for the light, but stopped when Jack's voice said "No, just leave it on." He came around to the other side of the bed as she left. "If that's okay with you, Daniel?"

No. No it wasn't okay. Dark; he wanted it dark. He wanted it so dark that there would be no chance that he wouldn't actually disappear. That thought took him back to his adventure with Hanno, to the moment when he wished he could disappear just by closing his eyes. It hadn't worked then, and he knew it wouldn't work now either. It wasn't the presence of light which was revealing. It was Jack's presence. It was the feelings Jack's presence caused to rise up inside him; the threat that he'd need to acknowledge how he really felt about what had happened, and about what Jack obviously thought of him. Daniel wasn't sure he was ready to do that.

"Daniel, I..." There was a pause, and then the scrape of chair legs across the floor. Jack settled into the chair, his face ending up at the same level as Daniel's own, framed by the uprights of the side rail. Daniel glanced at him and then quickly turned his head, averting his gaze to the ceiling.

"Daniel... Shit. I can't see you through this." The rail clicked and then slid down, and Jack placed his arms on the bed, leaning forward. "That's better."

No it's not.

There was a long silence. Then, "Nurse Clark, huh? I bet you'd have preferred Hanno."

Daniel couldn't help but let out a snort of indignity. This sucked. "Yeah. Anybody, actually."

"Even me?" A hand reached forward tentatively and then snaked back away again. A moment later it reappeared, large and warm, and ended up in the space between his cheek and the pillow, just barely touching him. "God, Danny. God, I'm so sorry. I... I want to help, but I guess... well, I don't blame you that you don't trust me.

Didn't trust him? He trusted Jack. He did – didn't he? Oh God, maybe not. Maybe it wasn't just a difference of opinion that brought them to this point. Maybe it was something far more important. He hadn't trusted Jack to handle the situation with Teal'c, not that he'd done any better at it himself. Humiliation swamped him; now, his pride wouldn't let him trust Jack enough to have the man witness his helplessness.

Shame and guilt rose, only to quickly subside under a flash of anger. Okay, so if there was a lack of trust, that had gone both ways or he wouldn't even be here in this situation. Jack had taken out his frustration on him, and then left him behind. Between the two of them, they'd probably mistrusted enough to drum him right out of SG1. His vision was beginning to darken at the periphery, and it was an effort to keep his eyes open. He stayed rock still while the room started to spin around him, and concentrated on speaking slowly and clearly, forcing the burning issue out through a clenched jaw. "You're not exactly accepting of me, are you. You didn't come back for me. Not for hours."

"I know. Look, this is going to sound crazy, I know. But we didn't know you were still there. We got hurried out of the 'gate room so fast, and then... Shit. Never mind. That's no excuse. Daniel, I was wrong. I was frustrated and I acted like a... Hell, I'd give anything to trade places with you right now. I don't know what else to say."

The creeping lassitude was overwhelming. Daniel wasn't sure if he wanted to pull away from or lean into the hand on his face. His eyes closed of their own accord. "You don't want to trade places." This hurts like hell, Jack, and it's not just the back injury. Daniel let his head drop toward the hand, his head spinning.

"Daniel? You okay?"

Stupid question, Jack. "Hanno... smart kid. Said we gotta solve this." His own voice seemed to come from far away. "I wanna stay on the team."

"Danny... nobody said anything about..." That voice came from even further away.

"Jack, you... Pissed off. Mad."

"I know you are. It's okay. I've been a jerk. I deserve it."

Despite himself, the sudden heaviness of his head caused Daniel to lean into the warmth of the hand on his cheek. It was unexpectedly pleasant. "No, no. Okay, yeah, mad at you. But, I didn't understand the Cor-ai. Pissed you off. Don't trust me. Don't want me on the team."

He felt Jack's thumb brush his cheek and heard the faint whisper from in front of him. "No, that's not... Look, we'll sort it out, we'll figure it out." Then he was drifting, floating away. He knew Jack was still speaking, but he couldn't understand the words anymore. As he felt the drug take full control and slipped off into sleep, his last thoughts were that despite their different approaches, they had both arrived at the same place after all. They were both struggling with trust, they were both angry, and they were both sorry.

And they were both acting like jerks.

But Jack was better at it.

 

* * *

 

 

 **  
****Epilogue**

 

"In summary, the Byrsa's conduct throughout this trying set of circumstances was exemplary, highly consistent not only with their own Mandates but also with desireable standards of moral and ethical behavior to which our own culture aspires. That the intended disposition of Teal'c, through the outcome of the Cor-ai, was a regrettable aberration was freely admitted by Hanno once he had the opportunity to examine his personal motivations. Hanno's behavior was no different than what might be anticipated from any individual in his position and it is to his credit, and to the credit of the Byrsa culture within which he was raised, that he was able and willing to acknowledge his misconception and correct it.

"Under the circumstances, these people treated SG1 with the utmost respect and certainly were responsible for saving the life of this writer. They remain at risk. Therefore, it is my recommendation that the SGC establish an ongoing and regular liason with the Byrsa, and provide whatever support they may require in their ongoing struggle to safeguard their people from the Goa'uld. Teal'c's suggestion that he return to Cartago on a regular basis and use his knowledge of Goa'uld tactics to aid the Byrsa in refining their self-defense capability is a good one, which this writer feels should be facilitated as soon as possible."

General Hammond put the report aside at the buzz of the telephone. Picking up the receiver, he tapped his pen on his desk. This was probably the call he had been waiting for. He listened with satisfaction to Dr. Fraiser informing him that, yes, Dr. Jackson's MRI of that morning was satisfactory and he was progressing well and yes, he would be allowed up for the first time today, as anticipated. In about a half hour, in fact. Hammond knew that the past twelve days of discomfort and enforced bedrest had been very unpleasant for the young man, and despite the still nagging irritation over Jackson's steadfast refusal to change his story, he was pleased for him. He was getting to like that boy.

Giving in to impulse, he slid open his desk drawer and pulled a small gift for Daniel out of his secret stash, carefully checking the open doorway to his office as he did so. It wouldn't do to inadvertently give away his carefully guarded secret now. He counted; there were four left, after the one he just pulled out. That would last him; he could spare this one. He'd noticed yesturday that Jackson's supply was all but exhausted, and noticed, right along with the first observation, that Jackson was almost intolerably cranky. So the boy loved chocolate, to the point of distraction. Who knew? He checked his watch, and glanced down at the report. There was one final short section to read. He'd finish it off, and then head to the infirmary.

"There are two final matters which arose during this mission which this writer would like to comment upon. While it is not usually within the purview of this member to put forward subjective impressions in a formal mission report such as this, it is my belief that there are several important procedural issues which must be addressed by those in Command, for the safety and efficacy of all SCG teams."

Hammond frowned. Okay, he  _had been_  getting to appreciate the boy. Now, he wasn't so sure. This was a formal submission, and with the reference to 'those in Command' it sounded like whatever was to come just might tread dangerously close to his own territory. Dr. Jackson had a bit of a big mouth, spewing all sorts of wisdoms at both the most opportune and inopportune times – Hammond thought he'd like to keep the young man's off the top contributions verbal, thanks. His hand holding the gift gravitated back toward the still open desk drawer.

"Putting aside any consideration of specific causation of my injury, it is important that the general scenario which not only placed an SGC member but also the entire population of Cartago at risk be addressed. First, it is my opinion that given the necessary interpersonal loyalties formed amongst field team members, those teams may not be in an ideal position to objectively handle diplomatic negotiations in some situations where members may be at risk. The emotions which were engendered – both those observed and experienced on-site and those at the SCG itself of which I have been made aware through anecdotal reports – by the danger to Teal'c posed by the Cor-ai combined with a lack of knowledge of the culture, traditions, and values of the indigenous population to effectively render team members unable to respond appropriately to the inherently diplomatic nature of the initial predicament. Ultimately, the dearth of impartiality prevented the development of proper and thorough diplomatic understanding, and led to a huge oversight which placed the Byrsa at risk of total extermination by the Goa'uld."

Hammond marveled at how the kid could come up with all this stuff while, for four hours out of every six, he'd been mostly free-floating in a drowsy, drug-induced haze. He hadn't heard phrases of longer than four words at a time come from Jackson for close to two weeks, and here there were complex sentences long enough to challenge even the most adept reader. Jackson, it seemed, was coming back into his own. Hammond didn't know whether to be pleased or dismayed. He re-read the last paragraph. Okay, pleased. The complaint was valid and well-presented.

"Secondly, I wonder if procedures at the SGC surrounding accountability for Embarkation Room traffic, might require some review. Placing total accountability for the status of field team members upon the team leader, who oftentimes is under significant stress upon return from difficult missions, seems less than satisfactory. As well, field team activity can be unpredicatable at times. Yet the Command and accountability structure in place makes no allowances for these concerns."

Oops. Dismayed. The gift disappeared back into the drawer. Hammond had the urge to summon O'Neill and lambaste him for being unable to impress upon his civilian team member respect for proper military chain of command protocol. The irony of that impulse hit him a scant second later, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

"As to accountability, there would be no use in raising these concerns if I did not take seriously my own responsibilities in finding solutions. First, I would like to recommend that the SGC establish a field team whose area of expertise and primary function would be as diplomatic liason and trouble-shooter. Second, I would respectfully suggest that some concrete procedures be put in place which allow Embarkation Room security personnel and Control Room personnel to be given both the right and responsibility to verify that traffic through the Stargate is according to plan."

Signed, dated, delivered. The gift came back out. Hammond fingered it thoughtfully. Maybe Dr. Jackson should write things down more often. He made a lot of sense; a lot more than it seemed when he was spouting off in the middle of a briefing. Good suggestions. Both of them. There was one thing still missing, though, and Hammond knew he wouldn't find it in the report. Recommendations for correcting some of the factors which contributed to the dismal performance of SG1 were all fine and good, but the bigger issue, the cohesiveness of this team – in particular, the ability of two of it's members to respect one another's differences and work together – was an important problem which as yet remained unsolved.

He checked his watch; time to get going. With a last longing look at four remaining bright red wrappers, he closed the drawer and left, peace offering in hand, to check up on the person who, he had to admit to himself, was fast becoming one of his favorite children.

 

* * *

 

Oh, no. Hammond could hear the bickering before he even rounded the doorway into the infirmary. The sense of good will which had blossomed on the way down here, his willingness to overlook the outstanding mistruth and to accept wholheartedly the well-founded recommendations of Dr. Jackson, soured as the two voices, raised in obvious irritation, wafted toward him.

"No. I don't need... No. Look, just stop it."

"No. You need it. You're obviously just too thick to realize it."

"I don't need it. I don't need  _you_.  Just... let. go. of.  me."

"Well I don't care what you  _think_  you don't need."

"Oh, right. I forgot. You know better."

He entered to see Daniel Jackson standing –  _standing_  – by the bedside, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed. His upper arm was held by Jack O'Neill in what appeared to be a singularily firm grasp. The two men glared at each other, O'Neill standing fast while Jackson wavered side to side ever so slightly. At his entrance, both of them turned their heads toward him. The glares remained in place, and Jackson yanked his arm trying to pull it out of the strong grip. "General. He's under your command? Right? Tell him to back off."

"No, Daniel. That's  _not_  how the chain of command works." O'Neill just reinforced his hold on the arm.  Hammond fought to reveal his smirk.

He looked at he bar in his hand, considering just turning around and leaving to find a quiet place to eat it himself. What was he going to do with this team? Suddenly, Jackson let out a loud groan, and Hammond looked up, alarmed. He was surprised to see that although Jackson had a pained look on his face, O'Neill was grinning broadly. Hammond followed O'Neill's gaze, and saw the young nurse apporaching with the walker.

"Sir. Okay, Dr. Daniel." She acknowledged Hammond's presence, and then stopped in front of both men, smiling at them. "I'll just show you how to use this thing."

"Ellen, I don't want it. I don't need it."

"Yes he does." O'Neill reached out and pulled the nurse and the walker toward them.

"No, I don't." Another unsuccessful pull of the arm.

"Well I disagree, Daniel."

"Well I think we've been through the 'who knows best' routine far too often. So let's just agree to disagree then, okay?"  It wasn't a question, though. The words were spat out.

"No, I don't think so. We never arrived at a conclusion. Which is, that I know best. And you don't know anything. Dr. Fraiser said you need it, Nurse Ellen here says you need it..." O'Neill turned to General Hammond. "Tell him he needs it, Sir."

Oh, not a chance was he getting involved. "Dr. Jackson. I'm glad to see you back on your feet. I just wanted to tell you I've read your report, and I appreciate the suggestions you made."  He was a bit taken aback by the open-eyed look of utter astonishment on Jackson's face, and only just then realized that Jackson had probably worried that the unconventional report would be disregarded, perhaps even censured.  He took in the pale face and shaky stance, and thought about how truly fragile the young man still was. Well, okay, he had a solution for that.  He extended the bar.

"Here. I brought this. Thought you might like it."

The wide blue eyes got even wider as Jackson stared at the chocolate bar, and the shaky legs all but threatened to collapse completely. O'Neill glanced in concern at Jackson and leaned forward, a confused look on his face as he examined the offering. Suddenly, the look of confusion cleared and the Colonel burst out laughing, a loud guffaw which travelled through his whole body and down his arm, rocking the young man he supported.

Hammond was very confused. "What? It's a chocolate bar. One of my favorites. It's rich peanut butter, coated with chocolate." He examined the red wrapping and large black lettering himself, seeing nothing wrong whatsoever.

"Jack..." Jackson moaned the name, and his free hand groped for O'Neill's arm. "Okay, I give. I think I do need help... Help me, Jack." O'Neill reached out and clasped the young man around his shoulders, drawing him close. Jackson sank into the support, leaning his head against O'Neill's.

Hammond frowned. "You don't like peanut butter?"

O'Neill laughed again, and hugged his charge tightly. "Sir, I think maybe Daniel is a bit tired of chocolate right now... I'm sure you understand. Thanks anyway."

Hammond didn't understand in the least, but he was pleased to see that not only could the two men seem to tolerate one another's company, despite their obvious disagreement, they had no problem actually leaning on each other - both figuratively and literally. "Oh, well, all right. Perhaps some cheese or something? Next visit." Fine. All the more for him. And after being an unwilling participant in this perplexing scene, he needed it.

At the wide grin from O'Neill and the scant nod from Jackson, Hammond turned to leave, unwrapping the precious Clark Bar as he went.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
